^^'sM^^^"^      ■^'  ■^"" 


LIBRARY   OF 

HENRY  C.  FALI 


AND  KATHARINE  A.  FALL 

n^umher'Z03, 

Date  of  Purchase     J^<^  xs.  36 

Place       <uO-^  a,cLj..^\/y,.t)J   Q^oJL  . 
Cost       S  o'^  K 


UNIV.  OF  CALIF.  UBRA|Y,  LOS  ANGEtl* 


ALTHOUGH  a  biographer  herself,  as' 
/\      well  as  a  novelist,  Mrs.  Gaskell 
A^y    has  not  been  given  much  attcn- 
^    -^  tion   by   other   biographers,   per- 
haps because  she  once  said  that  she  cared 
to  have  no  one  make  a  formal  record  of 
her  life.  Although  there  was  an  abundance 
of  material,  her  two  younger  daughters, 
in  confonnance   .vith  her  wishes,  refused 
to  allow  anyone  to  make  use  of  it.     The 
most  they  would  do  was  to  give  to  Sir 
Adolphus  "Ward  a  few  facts  from  which 
to  prepare  his  article  for  The  Dictionary 
of    National    Biography,    which    unfortu- 
nately Is  incomplete  and  in  some  state- 
ments  incorrect.      Their   attitude   contin- 
ued   unchanged    even  .in    spite    of    their 
elder  sister's  opTJOsition.  and  when  Mrs. 
Ellis      II.      Chadvvick's      "Mrs.      Gaskell, 
Haunts.    Homes    and    Stories"    was    pub- 
lished Miss  Meta  Gaskell  sent  an  article 
to  the  press  charging  it  with  being  "full 
jpf  errors,"  and  declaring  that  Mrs.  Chad- 
wick  "had  obtained  what  little  informa- 
tion  the    family   gave   her   only   because 
they   had   not   known   that   she   intendad 
to  use  it  in  a  lx)ok."    Prom  this  it  is  clear 
that  these  daughters  deliberately,  if  not 
Intentionally,  sought  to  do  their  motheii 

a  great  wrong. 

«    »»    « 

In   face   of  this   antagonism,   howev  r 
which   was    continued    after   their   death 

I  by   instruction   left   with    their   solicitors 

1  considerable  has  been  written  about  Mrs. 

!  Gaskell,  the  latest  volume  being  a  com 
bincd  biography  and  literai-y  study  by 
Dr.  Gerald  DeWitt  .Sanders,  i)rofessor  of 
English  in  the  IMichigan  State  Normal 
College.  Unfortunately,  though  there  is 
much  original  material,  especially  in  the 
form  of  letters,  available,  it  cannot  be 
even  now  used  because  of  these  un- 
fortunate family  restrictions.  "This  vol- 
ume," says  Dr.  Sanders,  "does  not  pro- 
fess to  be  a  life;  it  is  simply  a  study  of 
her  works.     It  does  contain,   however,  a 

'  number  of  facts  not  before  set  down,  and; 
corrects  several  errors  that  have  been! 
allowed  to  go  unchallenged  since  Mrs. 
Gaskell's  death.  It  also  outlines  in  fairly! 
chronological  order  her  life  and  activities,} 
without  trying  to  build  up  a  suppositious' 


**='■■'    vigfeti**^ 


■■'^if^:>. 


Copjrlfht,  1992,  bj  T.  V.  I'lowtll  .1  Co. 

"A  Walk  with   Mr.  Holbrook." 


CRANFORD 


BY 

MRS.  GASKELL 


With  a  Preface  by 
ANNE    THACKERAY    RITCHIE 


NEW  YORK:  46  East  mth  Street 

THOMAS    Y.    CROWELL    &    CO 

BOSTON:    100  Purchase  Street 


The  study  of 
Mrs.  Gaskell,  which  is  particularly 
penetratingr  and  finely  interpretive, 
ends  with  the  statement  that  the 
secret  of  her  continuing  influence 
is  that  "  she  speaks  to  us  of  the 
common  things  which  make  life 
dear  to  the  heart.  She  leaves  us , 
at   home    with    our    souls." 


Copyright, 


By  T.  y.  CROWELL  &  Ca 


SMCKAMIEX 


I 


My  father  has  written  of  the  memories  connected 
with  the  writing  of  books,  and  of  the  scenes  and  feel- 
ings which  are  printed  on  the  pages,  quite  other  from 
those  which  they  recount.  And  there  are  also  the 
associations  of  the  readers  as  well  as  of  the  writers. 
One  scene  in  Cranfo7'd  always  comes  back  to  me,  not 
only  for  its  own  most  pathetic  value,  but  because  I  saw 
my  father  reading  it.  I  can  still  remember  him  com- 
ing through  the  doorway  just  as  I  had  finished  the 
chapter,  when  not  without  some  agitation  and  excite- 
ment I  put  the  close  printed  number  of  Household 
Words  into  his  hand.  It  was  in  the  little  dining-room 
of  his  house  in  Young  Street,  by  gas  light,  just  before 
dinner-time.  The  story  was  that  of  Captain  Brown, 
and  he  sat  down  and  read  it  then  and  there,  and  after- 
wards told  me  the  writer's  name.  But  indeed  I  did 
not  think  of  it  as  a  story  at  all,  it  seemed  to  me  rather 
that  I  had  witnessed  some  most  touching  and  heroic 
deed,  some  sad  disaster,  and  though  I  was  a  grown 


2052920 


iv  PREFACE 

girl  at  the  time  I  had  a  foolish  childish  wish  for  my 
fether's  sympathy,  and  a  feeling  that  even  yet  he 
might  avert  the  catastrophe.  Dear  Captain  Brown! 
in  his  shabby  wig  and  faded  coat,  loved  and  remem- 
bered far  beyond  the  narrow  boundaries  of  Cranford 
—  the  city  of  the  Amazons,  the  home  of  Miss  Pole, 
and  Miss  Matty,  and  Miss  Jenkyns,  the  place  where 
economy  was  always  "  elegant,"  where  "  though  some 
might  be  poor  we  were  all  aristocratic."  Ever  since 
the  winter's  evening  when  I  made  my  first  acquaint- 
ance with  that  delightful  place  it  has  seemed  to  me 
something  of  a  visionary  country  home,  which  I  have 
visited  at  intervals  all  my  life  long  (in  spirit)  for  re- 
freshment and  change  of  scene.  I  have  been  there  in 
good  company.  "  Thank  you  for  your  letter,"  Char- 
lotte Bronte  writes  to  Mrs.  Gaskell  in  1853.  "It  was 
as  pleasant  as  a  quiet  chat,  as  welcome  as  spring 
showers,  as  reviving  as  a  friend's  visit ;  in  short,  it 
was  very  like  a  page  of  Cranford.''''  .  .  .  The  quota- 
tion breaks  off  with  little  dots,  but  I  am  sure  that 
each  of  them  represents  a  happy  moment  for  Currer 
Bell,  who  had  not  many  such  in  her  sad  life. 

There  is  a  most  interesting  notice  of  Mrs.  Gaskell 
in  the  Biographical  Dictionary,  in  which  Lord  Hough- 
ton is  quoted  as  writing  of  Cranford,  as  "  the  finest 
piece  of  humoristic  description  that  has  been  added 
to  British,  literature  since  Charles  Lamb."  I  had 
been  thinking  of  Elia  after  re-reading  the  book,  and 
I  was  pleased  to  find  myself  on  the  steps  of  such  a 
critic  as  Lord  Houghton.  One  could  imagine  Mrs. 
Sarah  Battle  and  the  poor  relation  dwelling  in  Cran- 
ford, and  if  Charles  Lamb  could  have  liked  anything 


PREFACE  V 

that  was  not  London,  he  too  might  have  fancied  the 
place.  Perhaps  Miss  Austen's  ladies  may  also  have 
visited  there,  but  I  feel  less  certainty  about  them,  they 
belong  to  a  different  condition  of  things,  to  a  more 
lively  love-making  set  of  people,  both  younger  in  age 
and  older  in  generation  than  the  Cranford  ladies. 
Cranford  is  farther  removed  from  the  world,  and  yet 
more  attuned  to  its  larger  interests  than  Meryton  or 
Kellynch  or  Hartfield.  Drumble,  the  great  noisy 
manufacturing  town,  is  its  metropolis,  not  Bath  with 
its  succession  of  card  parties  and  Assembly  Rooms. 
At  Cranford  love  is  a  memory  rather  than  a  present 
emotion  ;  the  sentimental  locks  of  hair  have  turned  to 
gray,  the  billet  doux  to  yellow,  like  autumn  leaves  fall- 
ing from  the  Tree  of  Life,  but  there  is  more  of  real 
feeling  in  these  few  signs  of  what  was  once,  than  in  all 
the  Misses  Bennett's  youthful  romances  put  together. 
Only  Miss  Austen's  very  sweetest  heroines  (including 
her  own  irresistible  dark-eyed  self,  in  her  big  cap  and 
folded  kerchief)  are  worthy  of  the  old  place.  I  should 
give  the  freedom  of  Cranford,  were  it  mine  to  bestow, 
in  the  usual  "  handsome  casket,"  to  Anne  Elliott,  to 
Fanny  Price  perhaps  .  .  .  but  as  I  write  some  spirit 
of  compunction  disturbs  the  "  obiter  dicta  "  of  a  hasty 
moment.  Where  is  one  to  draw  the  line!  Lady 
Bertram  and  the  Honourable  Mrs.  Jamieson  would 
surely  have  been  kindred  souls,  delightful  creatures 
both  with  their  divergences.  Who  will  ever  forget 
Lady  Bertram's  plea  for  morality,  or  Mrs.  Jamieson's 
languid  replies  to  Miss*  Matty's  inquiries  as  to  the 
preparations  expected  in  a  gentleman's  dressing- 
room,  those  answers  given  in  the  wearied  manner  of 


vi  PREFACE 

the  Scandinavian  prophetess, "  Leave  me,  leave  me  to 
repose." 

But  it  is  all  very  well  to  decide  who  shall  and  who 
shall  not  in  turn  be  a  dweller  in  this  favoured  spot ! 
Cranford  chooses  its  own  inhabitants,  and  is  every- 
where, where  people  have  individuality  and  kindliness, 
and  where  oddities  are  tolerated,  nay,  greatly  loved 
for  the  sake  of  the  individuals. 

I  am  sure  Cranford  existed  in  the  quarter  in  Paris 
where  my  own  early  youth  was  passed.  I  can  remem- 
ber it  in  Kensington  also,  though  we  did  not  quite  go 
the  length  of  putting  our  cows  into  gray  flannel  dress- 
ing-gowns, as  Miss  Betsy  Barker  did.  Perliaps  Cran- 
ford did  not  even  stop  at  Kensington,  but  may  have 
reached  farther  afield,  taking  Chiswick  on  its  way. 
Miss  Deborah,  as  she  preferred  to  be  called,  is  cer- 
tainly first  cousin  to  Miss  Pinkerton ;  can  either  of 
these  ladies  have  been  connected  with  the  unrivalled 
Miss  Seward  herself  ?  I  do  not  quite  know  upon 
what  terms  Miss  Seward  and  Dr.  Johnson  happen 
to  be,  but  I  could  imagine  the  great  lexicographer 
driving  them  all  before  him  and  Miss  Pinkerton's 
turban,  or  Miss  Jenkyns  in  her  little  helmet-like 
bonnet. 

Miss  Deborah  and  Miss  Pinkerton  belong  to  an  alto- 
gether bygone  type,  but  all  the  rest  of  the  ladies  in 
Cranford  are  as  modern  and  as  much  alive  as  if  they 
had  been  born  in  the  6o's. 

"  I  believe  the  art  of  telling  a  story  is  born  with  some 
people,"  writes  the  author  of  Oranford;  it  was  certainly 
born  with  Mrs.  Gaskell.  My  sister  and  I  were  once 
under  the  same  roof  with  her  in  the  house  of  our  friends 


PREFACE  vii 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Smith,  and  the  remembrance 
of  her  voice  comes  back  to  me,  harmoniously  flowing 
on  and  on,  \Yith  spirit  and  intention,  and  delightful 
emphasis,  as  we  all  sat  indoors  one  gusty  morning 
listening  to  her  ghost  stories.  They  were  Scotch 
ghosts,  historical  ghosts,  spirited  ghosts,  with  faded 
uniforms  and  nice  old  powered  queues.  As  I  think  it 
over  I  am  suddenly  struck  by  the  immense  superiority 
of  the  ghosts  of  my  youth  to  the  present  legion  of 
unclean  spirits  which  surround  us,  as  we  are  told  — 
wielding  teacups,  smashing  accordions  and  banjos, 
breaking  furniture  in  bits.  That  morning  at  Hamp- 
stead,  which  I  recall,  was  of  a  different  order  of  things, 
spiritual  and  unseen ;  mystery  was  there,  romantic 
feeling,  some  holy  terror  and  emotion,  all  combined 
to  keep  us  gratefully  silent  and  delighted. 


II 


It  is  something  for  us  Cockneys  to  know  that  Mrs. 
Gaskell  belongs  to  London  after  all,  if  only  as  a  baby. 
Although  so  much  of  her  life  was  spent  in  the  North, 
and  Knutsford  was  the  home  of  her  childhood,  and 
Manchester  that  of  her  married  life,  yet  she  was  born 
in  Chelsea.  She  was  born  in  iSio,  in  pretty  old 
Lindsay  Place,  of  which  the  w  indows  —  ancient  lights 
even  then  —  still  look  out  upon  the  river  at  its  turn,  as 
it  flows  from  Cheyne  Row,  towards  the  sunset,  past 
Fulham  Palace,  where  the  Bishops  dwell,  and  Hamp- 
ton Court  and  its  histories,  out  into  the  country  plains 
beyond. 


via  PREFACE 

Mrs  Gaskell  was  born  in  that  propitious  hour  of  the 
great  men  and  women  who  came  into  the  world  in  the 
beginning  of  this  century  :  may  tlie  next  liundred  years 
bring  to  our  descendants  many  more  such  birthdays  ! 
She  belonged  to  a  good  stock  on  either  side  ;  her  father 
came  from  Berwick  upon  Tweed,  that  city  built  upon 
the  rock  ;  lie  was  Mr.  William  Stevenson,  a  Unitarian 
minister.  There  is  a  tradition  that  the  Stevensons 
came  originally  from  Norway,  and  there  are  old  family 
papers  in  which  the  name  is  spelt  Stevensen.  Mrs. 
Gaskell  liked  to  think  of  her  Scandinavian  forefathers, 
and  when  she  went  away  now  and  again  for  little 
jaunts  and  expeditions,  such  as  she  always  enjoyed,  she 
used  to  laugh  and  say  that  the  blood  of  the  Vikings 
her  ancestors  was  rising  in  her  veins.  She  was  always 
tenderly  attached  to  her  father's  memory,  and  proud 
and  fond  of  him,  and  he  must  have  been  indeed  a 
most  interesting  and  delightful  character.  A  letter 
lately  written  to  the  AthencEum,  evidently  by  some  old 
friend  of  the  family,  gives  a  quotation  from  Longman's 
Annual  Obituary  for  1830  and  of  the  notice  of  Mr. 
Stevenson's  death,  beginning  thus  :  "  The  literary  and 
scientific  world  has  sustained  a  great  loss  in  the  death 
of  Mr.  Stevenson,  a  man  remarkable  for  the  stores  of 
knowledge  which  he  possessed,  and  for  the  simplicity 
and  modesty  by  which  his  rare  attainments  were  con- 
cealed." Among  other  facts  we  read  that  in  early  life 
while  preaching  in  Manchester  Mr.  Stevenson  was 
also  "  Classical  Tutor  in  the  Manchester  Academy,  so 
well  known  through  the  Aikens  and  Barbaulds.  He 
was  afterwards  appointed  secretary  to  Lord  Lauder- 
dale, and  finally  Keeper  of  the  Records  to  the  Treas- 


PREFACE  ix 

ur)',  both  of  which  appointments  brought  him  up  to 
London."  He  laboured  with  unremitting  diligence, 
contributing  to  tlie  Edinburgh  Review,  the  Westmiri- 
j/fr, andDr.  ^r&'Visi&r?,  Eticyclopedia.  "He  had  the 
true  spirit  of  a  faithful  historian,  and,  contrary  to  the 
practice  too  prevalent  in  those  days,  dived  into  orig- 
inal sources  of  information."'  Was  not  this  the  father, 
one  might  imagine,  for  such  a  daughter  ?  Mr.  Steven- 
son married,  as  his  first  wife.  Miss  Eliza  Holland  of 
:iandlebridge.  It  would  not  be  difficult  to  name  some 
dozen  families  now  existing  which  have  set  their  mark 
upon  the  times,  trump  cards  in  the  game  of  life,  so  to 
speak,  and  to  one  of  these  families  Mrs.  Gaskell's 
mother  belonged.  The  poor  young  lady  died  very  soon 
after  her  little  girl  was  born,  and  the  child  was  taken 
away  to  the  care  of  an  aunt,  her  mother's  sister,  who 
was  living  at  Knutsford  in  Cheshire  with  an  only  child, 
a  cripple.  The  whole  story  was  very  melancholy,  and 
one  can  imagine  that  it  may  have  been  a  somewhat 
sad  and  silent  home  for  a  little  girl  full  of  life  and  im- 
agination. There  was  an  uncle  also  dwelling  in  the 
same  little  country  town.  Dr.  Peter  Holland,  who 
was  the  father  of  the  great  physician  Sir  Henry  Hol- 
land, and  the  grandfather  of  the  present  Lord  Knuts- 
ford. Besides  their  houses  in  Knutsford  the  Holland 
family  had  a  pretty  old  country  house  some  two  or  three 
miles  beyond  the  town,  from  whence  Mrs.  Gaskell's 
own  mother  had  come.  The  house  where  Mrs.  Gas- 
kell  lived  as  a  little  girl  with  her  aunt  is  on  the  Heath, 
a  tall  red  house,  with  a  wide  spreading  view,  and  with 
a  pretty  carved  staircase  and  many  light  windows 
both  back  and  front. 


X  PREFACE 

I  have  heard  that  Mrs.  Gaskell  was  not  always  quite 
happy  in  those  days,  —  imaginative  children  go 
through  many  phases  and  trials  of  their  own,  —  in  her 
hours  of  childish  sorrow  and  trouble  she  used  to  run 
away  from  her  aunt's  house  across  the  Heath  and  hide 
herself  in  one  of  its  many  green  hollows,  finding  com- 
fort in  the  silence,  and  in  the  company  of  birds  and 
insects  and  natural  things.  But  at  other  times  she 
had  delightful  games  of  play  with  her  cousins  in  the 
sweet  old  family  house  at  Sandlebridge,  where  so 
many  Hollands  in  turn  had  lived. 

The  old  house  stands  lonely  in  a  beautiful  and  tran- 
quil position  with  a  wavering  prospect  of  fields  and 
shady  trees  and  hedges,  reaching  to  the  hills  which  rise 
in  the  far  distance.  As  we  stood  there  we  could  see 
Alderley  Edge  clean  painted  against  the  stormy  sky. 
Just  before  reaching  the  house  the  road  dips  into  a 
green  hollow,  where  stands  a  forge  which  has  been 
tliere  for  over  two  hundred  years,  handed  down  from 
father  to  son.  Just  beyond  the  forge  is  an  old  mill, 
shaded  by  beautiful  trees  ;  we  could  hear  the  peaceful 
sounds  of  labour,  the  clanking  blows  of  the  anvil,  the 
soft  monotonous  thud  of  the  mill. 

Sandlebridge  is  now  given  up  to  a  farmer ;  a  pretty 
flagged  stone  path  leads  up  to  the  front  door.  There 
used  to  be  two  brick  pediments  with  balls  at  the  gar- 
den gate.  Years  ago,  so  long  ago  that  the  great 
Lord  Clive  was  only  a  schoolboy  in  Knutsford  at  the 
time  (his  mother  was  a  Gaskell  and  had  connections 
in  the  place),  he  used  to  come  over  to  spend  his  half 
holidays  at  Sandlebridge,  and  his  pleasure  was  to 
jump  across  from  one  stone  ball  to  the  other,  to  the 


PREFACE  xi 

great  danger  of  his  legs  and  arms.  Here  too  in  later 
times,  as  we  have  said,  Mrs.  Gaskell  used  to  come  as 
a  little  girl,  and  play  with  her  cousins  and  gather 
flowers  from  the  garden.  There  was  a  great  bed  of 
saxifrage,  which  may  still  be  there,  it  was  always  her 
favourite  flower.  The  old  house  is  now  dismantled, 
but  one  or  two  things  still  remain  out  of  its  past ; 
among  others  are  the  fine  old  wooden  chimney-pieces 
in  the  front  parlour,  one  within  the  other,  —  so  it 
seemed  to  me,  —  and  the  old  shuffleboard.  A  shufile- 
board  is  an  immensely  long  table,  standing  upon  legs 
of  shining  oak  with  many  drawers  and  cupboards  un- 
derneath. There  are  hardly  any  left  anywhere  now. 
They  were  once  used  for  a  game  which  consisted  in 
jerking  heavy  counters  from  one  end  to  the  other  of 
the  shining  board,  and  trying  to  keep  your  own  and 
to  throw  your  enemy's  over  the  side  of  the  table.  As 
we  were  looking  with  interest  at  all  these  relics  of  by- 
gone times,  we  heard  a  sort  of  chucking  noise  from  the 
big  inner  room  or  kitchen ;  it  came  from  a  little  per- 
son some  two  or  three  months  old  lying  in  a  huge 
carved  oak  cradle  by  the  fire,  which  cradle  must  have 
rocked  any  number  of  generations  to  sleep. 

Knutsford  itself  is  a  little  town  of  many  oak  beams 
and  solid  brick  walls ;  there  are  so  many  slanting 
gables  left,  and  lattices  and  corners,  that  the  High 
Street  has  something  tlie  look  of  a  mediaeval  street. 
"  'T  is  an  old  ancient  place,"  said  the  shopwoman, 
standing  by  her  slanting  counter,  where  Shakespeare 
himself  might  have  purchased  hardware.  From  the 
main  street  several  narrow  courts  and  passages  lead  to 
the  other  side  of  the  little  town,  the  aristocratic  quarter, 


xii  PREFACE 

where  are  the  old  houses  with  their  walled  gardens. 
One  of  these  passages  runs  right  through  the  Royal 
George  Hotel,  itself  leading  from  shadow  into  the 
sunshine,  where  a  goat  disports  itself,  and  one  or  two 
ladies  seem  always  passing  with  quiet  yet  rapid  steps, 
—  the  inhabitants  of  Knutsford  do  not  saunter.  My 
friend  the  shopwoman  told  us  she  had  a  beautiful 
garden  at  the  back  of  her  "  old  ancient  place " ;  all 
the  houses  in  Knutsford  have  gardens,  with  parterres 
beautifully  .kept,  and  flowers  in  abundance.  It  was 
autumn,  but  everything  was  swept  and  tidy.  Strag- 
gling branches,  plants  overgrown  and  run  to  seed  do 
not  seem  to  be  known  in  Knutsford  amidst  its  heathy 
open  spaces.  There  is  something  so  spirited  and 
fresh  and  methodical  in  the  place  that  I  can  under- 
stand how  even  the  flower-beds  have  a  certain  self- 
respect,  and  grow  trim  and  straight,  instead  of  strag- 
gling about  in  lazy  abandon,  as  mine  do  at  home. 

As  we  entered  the  Royal  George  Hotel  out  of  the 
dark  street,  we  came  upon  a  delightful  broadside  of 
shining  oak  staircase  and  panelled  wainscot ;  old  oak 
settles  and  cupboards  stood  upon  the  landings.  On 
the  walls  hung  pictures,  one  was  of  Lord  Beacons- 
field,  one  was  a  fine  print  of  George  IV.,  and  others 
again  of  that  denuded  classic  school  of  art  which 
seems  to  have  taken  a  last  refuge  in  old  English 
Inns.  There  were  Chippendale  cabinets,  old  bits  of 
china,  and  above  all  there  were  the  beautiful  oak  ban- 
nisters to  admire.  But  these  handsome  staircases,  the 
china,  the  wood  carvings  are  all  about  the  place,  to 
which  the  great  traffic  of  the  coaches  from  Liverpool 
and  Manchester  brought   real   prosperity  for   many 


PREFACE  xiii 

years,  so  tnat  the  modest  little  houses  are  full  of 
worthy  things,  of  pretty  doorways,  arched  corners, 
carved  landings  and  mahogany  doors,  to  make  the 
fortune  of  a  dealer  in  bric-k-brac,  only  that  these  are 
tiot  bric-k-brac,  and  this  is  their  charm.  The  stair- 
cases and  chimney-pieces  are  their  own  original 
selves,  the  cupboards  were  made  to  dwell  in  their  own 
particular  niches,  and  it  is  the  passing  generations  who 
turn  and  unturn  the  keys  as  they  go  by.  Our  kind 
Interpreter  at  Knutsford  patiently  led  us  from  one 
place  to  another;  sometimes  we  seemed  to  be  in 
Cranford,  greeting  our  visionarj-  friends ;  sometimes 
we  were  back  in  Knutsford  again,  looking  at  the 
homes  of  the  people  we  had  known  in  the  fact  rather 
than  in  the  fancy.  And  just  as  one  sometimes  sees 
traces  of  another  place  and  time  still  showing  in  the 
streets  of  some  new  and  busy  town,  so  every  here  and 
there  seemed  isolated  signs  and  tokens  of  the  vision- 
ary familiar  city  as  it  has  been  raised  by  the  genius 
of  its  founder. 


Ill 


Mrs.  Gaskell  was  a  very  beautiful  young  woman, 
I  heard  her  described  only  the  other  day  by  a  friend 
who  remembered  her  in  her  youth.  She  had  a  well- 
shaped  head,  regular,  finely-cut  features ;  her  mien 
was  bright  and  dignified,  almost  joyous,  so  my  in- 
formant said,  and  among  her  many  other  gifts  was  that 
of  delightful  companionship.  She  was  very  young 
when  she  was  married  to  the  Reverend  William  Gas- 
kell, minister  of  the  Cross  Street  Unitarian  Chapel  in 


XIV  PREFACE 

Manchester.  She  was  married  from  her  aunt's  house 
at  Cranford  at  the  Parish  Church,  and  not  in  the  beau- 
tiful old  Unitarian  Chapel,  with  its  ivy-clad  walls  and 
latticed  windows,  dating  from  Oliver  Cromweirs  time. 
In  those  days  marriages  were  only  solemnised  in  the 
Parish  Church. 

The  young  couple  settled  in  their  new  home, 
Mrs.  Gaskell  "  co-operated  with  her  husband  in  his 
work,"  we  are  told,  "  and  was  always  ready  for  any 
useful  work  of  charity  or  helpfulness." 

Mr.  Gaskell  was  one  of  those  ministers  whose  con- 
gregations are  outside  as  well  as  inside  chapel  walls, 
for  I  have  heard  his  name  mentioned  again  and  again 
by  different  people,  and  always  with  affection  and 
respect. 

For  some  years  after  her  marriage  Mrs.  Gaskell 
lived  a  domestic  life,  busy  with  her  children,  and 
ordering  her  household  and  training  her  maids,  for 
which  indeed  she  had  a  special  gift ;  then  a  terrible 
sorrow  fell  upon  her,  and  we  know  how  she  began  to 
write  to  divert  her  mind  from  brooding  upon  the  loss 
of  her  only  son. 

In  1847  she  had  finished  that  noble  book,  Mary 
Barton,  that  book  with  a  "  sob  in  it,"  as  the  French 
critic  says.  "  Ah !  quelle  inusique  douloureuse  dans 
iin  sattglot y 

But  there  is  something  far  beyond  a  sob  in  Mary 
Barton.  The  writer  is  writing  of  what  she  has  lived, 
not  only  of  what  she  has  read  or  even  looked  at  as 
she  passed  her  way.  It  is  true  she  read  Adain  Smith 
and  studied  Social  Politics,  but  with  that  admirable 
blending  of  the  imaginative  and  the  practical  qualities 


PREFACE  XV 

which  was  her  gift,  she  knows  how  to  stir  the  dry 
skeleton  to  life  and  reach  her  readers'  hearts.  Many 
books  and  novels  dealing  with  the  poor  are  touch- 
ingly  expressed  and  finely  conceived,  but  somehow 
this  particular  gift  of  the  spirit  is  wanting ;  we  admire 
the  books  without  being  ourselves  absorbed  by  them. 
It  is  the  difference  in  short  between  the  light  of  genius 
and  the  rays  of  the  prism  analysed,  calculated,  divided. 
This  power  of  living  in  the  lives  of  others  and  calling 
others  to  share  the  emotion,  does  not  mean,  as  people 
sometimes  imagine,  that  a  writer  copies  textually  from 
the  world  before  her.  I  have  heard  my  father  say  that 
no  author  worth  anything,  deliberately,  and  as  a  rule, 
copies  the  subject  before  him.  And  so  with  Mrs. 
Gaskell.  Her  early  impressions  were  vivid  and  dear 
to  her,  but  her  world,  though  coloured  by  remembrance 
and  sympathy,  was  peopled  by  the  fresh  creations  of 
her  vivid  imagination,  not  by  stale  copies  of  the 
people  she  had  known. 

Mary  Barion  made  a  great  and  remarkable  sensa- 
tion. Carlyle,  Landor,  Miss  Edge  worth  praised  and 
applauded,  and  nameless  thousands  also  praised  and 
read  the  noble  outspoken  book.  "  Individuals  may 
have  complained,"  so  says  the  biographer,  from  whom 
I  have  so  often  quoted,  "  but  the  work  has  unquestion- 
ably helped  to  make  the  manufacturing  world  very 
different  from  what  it  was  forty  years  ago." 

The  same  intuition  which  guided  her  along  the 
pleasant  country  lanes  made  her  at  home  in  the  teem- 
ing streets  and  crowded  alleys  of  Manchester. 

A  very  interesting  article  by  Monsieur  Emile  Montd- 
gut,  written  some  thirty  years  ago,  pays  a  fine  ^ibute 


xvi  PREFACE 

to  Mrs.  Gaskeirs  striking  exposition  of  the  life  amidst 
which  so  much  of  her  own  was  passed,  to  her  depth 
of  feeling,  to  her  moderation  of  statement. 

The  article  also,  to  my  surprise,  gives  an  answer  to 
the  little  riddle  I  was  trying  to  solve  in  my  own  mind 
as  to  the  difference  between  the  world  of  Cranford  and 
that  of  Miss  Austen.  '  Each  century  possesses  a  force 
of  its  own,  says  the  critic,  one  particular  means  of 
action,  to  the  exclusion  of  others ;  it  may  be  intelli- 
gence, it  may  be  passion,  it  may  be  determination,  each 
rules  in  turn. 

In  the  sixteenth  century  w///  prevailed,  and  the  char- 
acter of  the  men  and  the  martyrs  of  that  time  were  in 
value  far  beyond  their  convictions.  In  the  eighteenth 
century,  on  the  contrary,  the  ideas  were  worth  more 
than  the  lives.  Books  and  pamphlets  were  better 
than  the  men  who  wrote  them.  What  is  the  force, 
says  Mr.  Montdgut,  of  the  age  in  which  we  ourselves 
are  living?  it  is  certainly  not  will,  nor  is  it  brilliant 
intelligence,  as  in  the  days  of  Voltaire.  It  is  a  quality 
which,  for  want  of  a  better  word,  we  will  call  "  the 
force  of  sentiment."  .  .  .  "People,"  he  continues, 
"  have  little  confidence  in  systems,  a  man  with  a  hobby 
is  immediately  a  butt,  but  a  man  who  is  not  t)bliged 
to  be  right  in  order  to  guard  his  vanity,  has  but  to  de- 
scribe in  a  few  simple  and  true  sentences  some  fact, 
some  moral  wrong  which  needs  redressing,  and  see 
the  effect,  and  the  silent  help  which  immediately  fol- 
lows, and  for  this  reason  it  is  that  in  literature  we 
have  seen  of  late  the  almost  exclusive  reign  of  fic- 
tion." .  .  . 

It  is  this  quality  of  statement  which  we  find  in  Mrs. 


PREFACE  XVll 

Gaskell's  books  whicli  distinguishes  them  from  so 
many  which  preceded  them,  and  which  gives  them 
their  influence.  It  was  because  she  had  written  Mary 
Barton  that  some  deeper  echoes  reach  us  in  Cranford 
than  are  to  be  found  in  any  of  Jane  Austen's  books, 
delightful  as  they  are.  Young  people  read  books  to 
learn  about  their  lives  which  are  to  come,  old  people 
read  them  to  forget  the  present ;  there  is  yet  another 
class  of  readers,  old  and  young,  who  read  to  find  ex- 
pression to  the  indefinite  unshaped  feelings  by  which 
they  are  haunted,  r—  of  all  these  will  not  each  find  re- 
sponse in  the  books  of  Elizabeth  Gaskell,  in  Ruth, 
in  Coitsin  Phyllis,  in  Sylvid^s  Lovers,  in  that  last  fine 
work  which  she  never  finished? 

It  must  be  remembered  that  Mrs.  Gaskell  wrote  in 
the  great  time  of  literature,  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
century.  It  remains  for  readers  of  this  later  time  to 
see  how  nobly  she  held  her  own  among  the  masters 
of  her  craft.  "  She  has  done  what  we  none  of  us 
could  do,"  said  George  Sand  to  Lord  Houghton ;  "  she 
has  written  novels  which  excite  the  deepest  interest  in 
men  of  the  world,  and  yet  which  every  girl  will  be  the 
better  for  reading." 

We  Ml  know  what  a  friend  Mrs.  Gaskell  proved  her- 
self to  Charlotte  Bronte,  and  what  happiness  this 
friendship  brought  to  the  author  of  Jane  Eyre.  Mrs. 
Gaskell  had  the  gift  of  giving  out  in  a  very  remarkable 
degree.  Miss  Bronte,  as  we  all  know,  was  tortured 
and  imprisoned  by  shyness.  "  She  does  not,  and  can- 
not care  for  me,  for  she  does  not  know  me,  how  should 
she,"  Miss  Bronte  says,  writing  of  a  child  of  Mrs. 
Gaskell,  but  that  child's  mother  did  Charlotte  Bronte 


xviii  PREFACE 

justice,  and  guessed  by  happy  intuition  at  the  treasure 
concealed  in  the  unpretending  casket. 

Mrs.  Gaskell  quotes  a  letter  from  Miss  Bronte  in 
her  Life  which  is  very  characteristic  of  them  both. 
"  Do  you,  who  have  so  many  friends,  so  large  a  circle 
of  acquaintance,  find  it  easy  when  you  sit  down  to 
write  to  isolate  yourself  from  all  those  ties  and  their 
sweet  associations,  so  as  to  be  your  own  woman,  un- 
influenced or  swayed  by  the  consciousness  of  how 
your  work  may  affect  other  minds,  what  blame  or  what 
sympathy  it  may  call  forth ;  does  no  luminous  cloud 
ever  come  between  you  and  the  severe  truth  in  your 
own  secret  or  clear-seeing  soul  ?  "  This  question  is 
best  answered  by  Mrs.  Gaskell's  own  pages.  Whether 
or  not  she  found  it  easy  I  cannot  say,  but  that  she  did 
not  "  isolate  herself,"  but  did  on  the  contrary  entirely 
associate  her  own  woman  with  the  work  of  her  life, 
her  readers  can  best  realise.  Her  great  natural  gift 
and  genius  instinctively  led  her  to  the  secret  of  things, 
to  the  very  soul  of  her  race.  She  must  have  felt  its 
life  and  spirit  too  keenly  indeed  for  her  own  happiness 
at  times,  but  how  much  has  she  not  added  to  the  sun- 
shine of  the  world ! 

Not  long  ago  I  found  myself  in  Mrs.  Gaskell's  ol<? 
home  in  Manchester,  and  the  thought  of  the  beautiful 
books  created  in  those  very  rooms  seemed  to  give 
life  to  the  stones  and  to  light  up  the  grim  Manches- 
ter streets  outside.  Cranford  was  written  in  the 
house  in  Plymouth  Grove,  as  were  almost  all  Mrs. 
Gaskell's  books.  But  when  tired  or  overdone  she 
used  often  to  return  to  Knutsford  for  rest  and  for  re- 
freshment,    Sometimes  in  later  life  she  stayed  with 


PREFACE  XIX 

her  cousins,  the  Miss  Hollands,  whose  traditions  she 
wove  into  shape,  together  with  the  quaint  conceits 
and  stories  which  are  still  told  in  Knutsford.  It  has 
its  customs  and  oddities  now,  just  as  when  Mrs.  Gas- 
kell  was  a  girl.  I  am  told  that  the  streets  are  sanded 
on  certain  days  in  pretty  patterns  all  along  the  pave- 
ment ;  there  are  temperance  processions  in  which  the 
immortal  sedan  chair  still  figures,  and  I  myself  ob- 
served that  some  of  the  humbler  bonnets  formed 
quite  an  important  feature  in  the  scene,  while  recol- 
lections of  Miss  Matty's  successive  caps  seemed  to 
float  across  one's  mind.  It  was  delightful  to  hear 
the  people  of  Knutsford  still  speak  of  Mrs.  Gaskell 
and  of  the  pleasure  her  visits  always  brought,  and  the 
pleasure  she  always  took  in  them  ;  of  her  long  country 
drives  with  an  old  friend,  a  doctor,  going  his  rounds, 
twenty  and  thirty  miles  at  a  time  ;  of  her  talk  and  inter- 
est in  all  the  details  along  the  way.  She  loved  country 
things  and  farming  things  ;  she  always  kept  her  cow, 
even  in  Manchester ;  she  understood  the  practical  facts 
of  life  as  well  as  its  feelings.  I  have  heard  of  her, 
tired  and  ill,  starting  on  a  three  mile  walk  on  behalf 
of  a  poor  dependent,  so  as  to  make  sure  that  some 
necessary  help  was  properly  administered.  There  is 
one  thrilling  tradition  of  Knutsford  far  too  melodra- 
matic for  our  Cranford,  where  the  mere  rumour  of  the 
housebreaker  so  alarmed  Mr.  Mulliner ;  this  story  is 
that  of  the  highwayman  Higgins,  who  lived  in  Heath 
House,  and  who  kept  his  horses  underground  con- 
cealed in  the  cellar.  The  highwayman  must  have 
enjoyed  his  lovely  garden  and  his  fine  old  staircase, 
when  he  was  not  escaping  by  his  secret  passage. 


XX  PREFACE 

I  heard  of  one  Knutsford  lady  the  other  day, 
greatly  excited  by  some  piece  of  news,  —  no  highway 
robbery,  but  a  wedding,  I  beUeve.  To  soothe  her- 
self she  was  obliged  to  have  a  dish  of  toasted  cheese 
prepared,  and  to  send  for  a  friend  to  play  b^sique, 
and  share  the  news  and  the  dainty :  it  might  have 
been  Miss  Barker  herself.  Another  little  story  amused 
us  greatly,  so  well  was  it  told,  and  so  characteristic  of 
all  times,  old  and  new.  One  of  the  young  Hol- 
lands born  in  the  South  was  greatly  interested  in  the 
family  traditions,  and  he  came  for  a  holiday  to  Knuts- 
ford to  see  the  old  home  of  his  fathers.  lie  looked 
all  about  Knutsford,  and  then  went  on  to  Sandle- 
bridge  to  call  on  the  old  farmer  there,  and  asked  him 
many  questions,  and  begged  him  to  show  him  all  over 
the  place.  And  the  old  farmer  kindly  welcomed  the 
young  man  for  his  parents'  and  grandparents'  sake, 
and  said,  "  O  yes,  Master  Frank,  I'll  show  you  about. 
I'll  show  you  wonderful  things ;  I'll  show  you  things 
will  mak'  your  hair  stan'  on  end.  Coom  along  o"" 
me."  So  they  drove  and  they  drove  along  the  lanes 
and  under  the  hedgerows,  and  all  the  way  the  young 
man  wondered  what  was  coming,  until  finally  the  old 
farmer,  who  would  not  say  a  word  beforehand,  stopped 
his  horse  and  triumphantly  pointed  to  the  bran  new 
red  and  yellow  villas  which  had  been  built  on  Alderley 
Edge,  where  he  found  such  good  custom  for  his  but- 
ter and  eggs.     And  these  were  the  wonderful  things. 

Knutsford  likes  to  associate  itself  with  Cranford  in 
a  desultory  visionary  sort  of  way.  One  house  claims 
Miss  Matty's  tea-shop.  The  owner  was  standing  in 
the  doorway,  and  he  kindly  brought  us  into  the  little 


PREFACE  xxi 

wainscoted  parlour,  with  the  window  on  the  street 
through  which  Aga  Jenkyns  may  have  dispensed  Miss 
Matty's  stock  of  sugar  plums  ;  hqre  too  was  a  pretty 
carved  staircase  and  arches  belonging  to  the  early 
Georges ;  another  most  charming  old  house,  Church 
House,  with  the  lovely  garden  where  the  children 
were  gathering  the  apples  and  the  gay  flower  beds  were 
skirting  the  turf  walk,  might  almost  have  been  the 
home  of  Molly  Gibson,  and  its  present  mistress  said 
she  liked  to  imagine  her  peeping  out  from  the  side 
window  at  the  old  coaches  as  they  clattered  through 
the  town.  As  I  sate  there  drinlcing  my  tea  I  thought 
I  could  almost  hear  Mrs.  Gibson  herself  conversing. 
"  Spring !  Primavera,  as  the  Italians  call  it,"  the 
lady  was  saying. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Preface "' 

CHAPTER  I 
Our  Society ' 

CHAPTER   II 
The  Captain '9 

CHAPTER   III 
A  Love  Affair  of  Long  Ago 42 

CHAPTER   IV 
A  Visit  to  an  Old  Bachelor 57 

CHAPTER  V 
Old  Letters 75 

CHAPTER  VI 

Poor  Peter 9i 

xxiii 


XXIV  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER   VII 
Visiting 109 

CHAPTER  VIII 
"Your  Ladyship" 124 

CHAPTER  IX 

SiGNOR   BrUNONI 144 

CHAPTER   X 
The  Panic 159 

CHAPTER  XI 
Samuel  Brown 182 

CHAPTER  XII 
Engaged  to  be  Married 199 

CHAPTER  XIII 
Stopped  Payment 27^ 

CHAPTER  XIV 
Friends  in  Need 232 

CHAPTER   XV 
A  Happy  Return 259 

CHAPTER  XVI 

Peace  to  Cranford 278 


0    (tpM®i 


Our  c^iefy 


In  the  first  place,  Cranford  is  in  possession  of  the 
Amazons ;  all  the  holders  of  houses,  above  a  certain 
rent,  are  women.  If  a  married  couple  come  to  settle 
in  the  town,  somehow  the  gentleman  disappears ;  he 
is  either  fairly  frightened  to  death  by  being  the  only 
man  in  the  Cranford  evening  parties,  or  he  is  ac- 
counted for  by  being  with  his  regiment,  his  ship,  or 
closely  engaged  in  business  all  the  week  in  the  great 
neighbouring  commercial  town  of  Drumble,  distant 
only  twenty  miles  on  a  railroad.  In  short,  whatever 
does  become  of  the  gentlemen,  they  are  not  at  Cran- 
ford.    What  could  they  do  if  they  were  there?     The 


2  CRANFORD 

surgeon  has  his  round  of  thirty  miles,  and  sleeps  at 
Cranford  ;  but  every  man  cannot  be  a  surgeon.  For 
keeping  the  trim  gardens  full  of  choice  flowers  with- 
out a  weed  to  speck  th  ixa.  \  for  frightening  away  little 
boys  who  look  wistfully  at  the  said  flowers  through 
the  railings ;  for  rushing  out  at  the  geese  that  occa- 
sionally venture  into  the  gardens  if  the  gates  are  left 
open ;  for  deciding  all  questions  of  literature  and 
politics  without  troubling  themselves  with  unneces- 
sary reasons  or  arguments ;  for  obtaining  clear  and 
correct  knowledge  of  everybody's  aff"airs  in  the 
parish  ;  for  keeping  their  neat  maidservants  in  admira- 
ble order ;  for  kindness  (somewhat  dictatorial)  to  the 
poor,  and  real  tender  good  offices  to  each  other  when- 
ever they  are  in  distress,  —  the  ladies  of  Cranford 
are  quite  sufficient.  "  A  man,"  as  one  of  them  ob- 
served to  me  once,  "  is  so  in  the  way  in  the  house  ! " 
I  Although  the  ladies  of  Cranford  know  all  each  other's 
proceedings,  they  are  exceedingly  indiflferent  to  each 
other's  opinions.  Indeed,  as  each  has  her  own  indi- 
viduality, not  to  say  eccentricity,  pretty  strongly 
developed,  nothing  is  so  easy  as  verbal  retaliation ; 
but,  somehow,  goodwill  reigns  among  them  to  a  con- 
siderable degree. 

The  Cranford  ladies  have  only  an  occasional  little 
quarrel,  spirted  out  in  a  few  peppery  words  and  angry 
jerks  of  the  head ;  just  enough  to  prevent  the  even 
tenor  of  their  lives  from  becoming  too  flat.  Their 
dress  is  very  independent  of  fashion  ;  as  they  observe, 
"  What  does  it  signify  how  we  dress  here  at  Cranford, 
where  everybody  knows  us  ?  "  And  if  they  go  from 
home,  their  reason  is  equally  cogent,  "  What  does  it 


OUR   SOCIETY  3 

signify  how  we  dress  here,  where  nobody  knows  us  ?  '^ 
The  materials  of  their  clothes  are,  in  general,  good 
and  plain,  and  most  of  them  are  nearly  as  scrupulous 
as  Miss  Tyler,  of  cleanly  memory ;  but  I  will  answer 
for  it,  the  last  gigot,  the  last  tight  and  scanty  petticoat 
in  wear  in  England,  was  seen  in  Cranford  —  and  seen 
without  a  smile. 

I  can  testify  to  a  magnificent  family  red  silk  um- 
brella, under  which  a  gentle  little  spinster,  left  alone 
of  many  brothers  and  sisters,  used  to  patter  to  church 
on  rainy  days.  Have  you  any  red  silk  umbrellas  in 
London  ?  We  had  a  tradition  of  the  first  that  had 
ever  been  seen  in  Cranford ;  and  the  little  -boys 
mobbed  it,  and  called  it  "  a  stick  in  petticoats."  It 
might  have  been  the  very  red  silk  one  I  have  de- 
scribed, held  by  a  strong  father  over  a  troop  of  little 
ones ;  the  poor  little  lady  —  the  survivor  of  all  — 
could  scarcely  carry  it. 

Then  there  were  rules  and  regulations  for  visiting 
and  calls ;  and  they  were  announced  to  any  young 
people,  who  might  be  staying  in  the  town,  with  all  the 
solemnity  with  which  the  old  Manx  laws  were  read 
once  a  year  on  the  Tinwald  Mount. 

"  Our  friends  have  sent  to  inquire  how  you  are  after 
your  journey  to-night,  my  dear"  (fifteen  miles  in  a 
gentleman's  carriage)  ;  "  they  will  give  you  some  rest 
to-morrow,  but  the  next  day,  I  have  no  doubt,  they 
will  call ;  so  be  at  liberty  after  twelve  —  from  twelve 
to  three  are  our  calling-hours." 

Then,  after  they  had  called  — 

"  It  is  the  third  day ;  I  daresay  your  mamma  has 
told   you,  my  dear,  never  let  more  than  three  days 


CRANFORD 


elapse  between  receiving  a  call  and  returning  it ;  and 
also,  that  you  are  never  to  stay  longer  than  a  quarter 
of  an  hour." 


"  A  magnificent  family  red  silk  umbrella." 

"  But  am  I  to  look  at  my  watch  ?  How  am  I  to 
find  out  when  a  quarter  of  an  hour  has  passed  ? " 

"  You  must  keep  thinking  about  the  time,  my  dear, 
and  not  allow  yourself  to  forget  it  in  conversation." 


OUR  SOCIETY  5 

As  everybody  had  this  rule  in  their  minds,  whether 
they  received  or  paid  a  call,  of  course  no  absorbing 
subject  was  ever  spoken  about.  We  kept  ourselves 
to  short  sentences  or  small  talk,  and  were  punctual 
to  our  time. 

I  imagine  that  a  few  of  the  gentlefolks  of  Cranford 
were  poor,  and  had  some  difficulty  in  making  both 
ends  meet ;  but  they  were  like  the  Spartans,  and  con- 
cealed their  smart  under  a  smiling  face.  We  none 
of  us  spoke  of  money,  because  that  subject  savoured 
of  commerce  and  trade  and  though  some  might  be 
poor,  we  were  all  aristocratic.  The  Cranfordians 
had  that  kindly  esprit  de  corps  which  made  them 
overlook  all  deficiencies  in  success  when  some  among 
them  tried  to  conceal  their  poverty.  When  Mrs.  For- 
rester, for  instance,  gave  a  party  in  her  baby-house  of 
a  dwelling,  and  the  little  maiden  disturbed  the  ladies 
on  the  sofa  by  a  request  that  she  might  get  the  tea- 
tray  out  from  underneath,  every  one  took  this  novel 
proceeding  as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world, 
and  talked  on  about  household  forms  and  ceremonies 
as  if  we  all  believed  that  our  hostess  had  a  regular 
servants'  hall,  second  table,  with  housekeeper  and 
steward,  instead  of  the  one  little  charity-school 
maiden,  whose  short  ruddy  arms  could  never  have 
been  strong  enough  to  carry  the  tray  upstairs  if  she 
had  not  been  assisted  in  private  by  her  mistress,  who 
now  sat  in  state,  pretending  not  to  know  what  cakes  f 
were  sent  up,  though  she  knew,  and  we  knew,  and  ' 
she  knew  that  we  knew,  and  we  knew  that  she  knew 
that  we  knew,  she  had  been  busy  all  the  morning 
making  tea-bread  and  sponge-cakes. 


6  CRANFORD 

There  were  one  or  two  consequences  arising  from 
this  general  but  unacknowledged  poverty,  and  this 
very  much  acknowledged  gentility,  which  were  not 
amiss,  and  which  might  be  introduced  into  many 
circles  of  society  to  their  great  improvement.  For 
instance,  the  inhabitants  of  Cranford  kept  early 
hours,  and  clattered  home  in  their  pattens,  under  the 
guidance  of  a  lantern-bearer,  about  nine  o'clock  at 
night ;  and  the  whole  town  was  abed  and  asleep  by 
half-past  ten.  Moreover,  it  was  considered  "vulgar" 
(a  tremendous  word  in  Cranford)  to  give  anything 
expensive,  in  the  way  of  eatable  or  drinkable,  at  the 
evening  entertainments.  Wafer  bread-and-butter 
and  sponge-biscuits  were  all  that  the  Honourable 
Mrs.  Jamieson  gave  ;  and  she  was  sister-in-law  to  the 
late  Earl  of  Glenmire,  although  she  did  practise  such 
"elegant  economy." 

"  Elegant  economy  !  "  How  naturally  one  falls  back 
into  the  phraseology  of  Cranford  !  There,  economy 
was  always  "  elegant,"  and  money-spending  always 
"  vulgar  and  ostentatious  "  ;  a  sort  of  sour  grapism 
which  made  us  very  peaceful  and  satisfied.  I  never 
shall  forget  the  dismay  felt  when  a  certain  Captain 
Brown  came  to  live  at  Cranford,  and  openly  spoke 
about  his  being  poor  —  not  in  a  whisper  to  an  inti- 
mate friend,  the  doors  and  windows  being  previously 
closed,  but  in  the  public  street !  in  a  loud  military 
voice  !  alleging  his  poverty  as  a  reason  for  not  taking 
a  particular  house.  The  ladies  of  Cranford  were 
already  rather  moaning  over  the  invasion  of  their 
territories  by  a  man  and  a  gentleman.  He  was  a 
half-pay  Captain,  and  had  obtained  some  situation  on 


OUR   SOCIETY  7 

a  neighbouring  railroad,  which  had  been  vehemently 
petitioned  against  by  the  little  town  ;  and  if,  in  addi- 
tion to  his  masculine  gender,  and  his  connection  with 
the  obnoxious  railroad,  he  was  so  brazen  as  to  talk 
of  being  poor — why,  then,  indeed,  he  must  be  sent 
to  Coventry.  Death  was  as  true  and  as  common  as 
poverty ;  yet  people  never  spoke  about  that,  loud  out 
in  the  streets.  It  was  a  word  not  to  be  mentioned 
to  ears  polite.  We  had  tacitly  agreed  to  ignore  that 
any  with  whom  we  associated  on  terms  of  visiting 
equality  could  ever  be  prevented  by  poverty  from 
doing  anything  that  they  wished.  If  we  walked  to 
or  from  a  party,  it  was  because  the  night  was  so  fine, 
or  the  air  so  refreshing,  not  because  sedan  chairs  were 
expensive.  If  we  wore  prints,  instead  of  summer 
silks,  it  was  because  we  preferred  a  washing  material ; 
and  so  on,  till  we  blinded  ourselves  to  the  vulgar  fact 
that  we  were,  all  of  us,  people  of  very  moderate 
means.  Of  course,  then,  we  did  not  know  what  to 
make  of  a  man  who  could  speak  of  poverty  as  if  it 
was  not  a  disgrace.  Yet,  somehow,  Captain  Brown 
made  himself  respected  in  Cranford,  and  was  called 
upon,  in  spite  of  all  resolutions  to  the  contrary.  I  was 
surprised  to  hear  his  opinions  quoted  as  authority  at 
a  visit  which  I  paid  to  Cranford  about  a  year  after  he 
had  settled  in  the  town.  My  own  friends  had  been 
among  the  bitterest  opponents  of  any  proposal  to 
visit  the  Captain  and  his  daughters  only  twelve 
months  before ;  and  now  he  was  even  admitted  in 
the  tabooed  hours  before  twelve.  True,  it  was  to  dis- 
cover the  cause  of  a  smoking  chimney,  before  the  fire 
was  lighted ;  but  still  Captain  Brown  walked  upstairs, 


8  CRANFORD 

nothing  daunted,  spoke  in  a  voice  too  large  for  the 
room,  and  joked  quite  in  the  way  of  a  tame  man 
about  the  house.  He  had  been  blind  to  all  the  small 
slights,  and  omissions  of  trivial  ceremonies,  with 
which  he  had  been  received.  He  had  been  friendly, 
though  the  Cranford  ladies  had  been  cool ;  he  had 
answered  small  sarcastic  compliments  in  good  faith  ; 
and  with  his  manly  frankness  had  overpowered  all  the 
shrinking  which  met  him  as  a  man  who  was  not 
ashamed  to  be  poor.  And,  at  last,  his  excellent 
masculine  common  sense,  and  his  facility  in  devising 
expedients  to  overcome  domestic  dilemmas,  had 
gained  him  an  extraordinary  place  as  authority  among 
the  Cranford  ladies.  He  himself  went  on  in  his 
course,  as  unaware  of  his  popularity  as  he  had  been 
of  the  reverse ;  and  I  am  sure  he  was  startled  one 
day  when  he  found  his  advice  so  highly  esteemed  as 
to  make  some  counsel  which  he  had  given  in  jest  to 
be  taken  in  sober,  serious  earnest. 

It  was  on  this  subject :  An  old  lady  had  an  Aldcr- 
ney  cow,  which  she  looked  upon  as  a  daughter.  You 
could  not  pay  the  short  quarter-of-an-hour  call  with- 
out being  told  of  the  wonderful  milk  or  wonderful 
intelligence  of  this  animal.  The  whole  town  knew 
and  kindly  regarded  Miss  Betsy  Barker's  Alderney ; 
therefore  great  was  the  sympathy  and  regret  when, 
in  an  unguarded  moment,  the  poor  cow  tumbled  into 
a  lime-pit.  She  moaned  so  loudly  that  she  was  soon 
heard  and  rescued ;  but  meanwhile  the  poor  beast 
had  lost  most  of  her  hair,  and  came  out  looking 
naked,  cold,  and  miserable,  in  a  bare  skin.  Every- 
body   pitied    the   animal,  though    a   few   could   not 


OUR   SOCIETY  9 

restrain  their  smiles  at  her  droll  appearance.  Miss 
Betsy  Barker  absolutely  cried  with  sorrow  and  dis- 
may ;  and  it  was  said  she  thought  of  trying  a  bath  of 
oil.  This  remedy,  perhaps,  was  recommended  by 
some  one  of  the  number  whose  advice  she  asked ; 
but  the  proposal,  if  ever  it  was  made,  was  knocked  on 
the  head  by  Captain  Brown's  decided  ''Get  her  a 
flannel  waistcoat  and  flannel  drawers,  ma'am,  if  you 
wish  to  keep  her  alive.  But  my  advice  is,  kill  the 
poor  creature  at  once." 

Miss  Betsy  Barker  dried  her  eyes  and  thanked  the 
Captain  heartily ;  she  set  to  work,  and  by  and  by  all 
the  town  turned  out  to  see  the  Alderney  meekly  going 
to  her  pasture,  clad  in  dark  gray  flannel.  I  have 
watched  her  myself  many  a  time.  Do  you  ever  see 
cows  dressed  in  gray  flannel  in  London? 

Captain  Brown  had  taken  a  small  house  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town,  where  he  lived  with  his  two  daugh- 
ters. He  must  have  been  upwards  of  sixty  at  the 
time  of  the  first  visit  I  paid  to  Cranford  after  I  had 
left  it  as  a  residence.  But  he  had  a  wiry,  well-trained, 
elastic  figure,  a  stiff  military  throw-back  of  his  head, 
and  a  springing  step,  which  made  him  appear  much 
younger  than  he  was.  His  eldest  daughter  looked 
almost  as  old  as  himself,  and  betrayed  the  fact  that 
his  real  was  more  than  his  apparent  age.  Miss  Brown 
must  have  been  forty ;  she  had  a  sickly,  pained,  care- 
worn expression  on  her  face,  and  looked  as  if  the 
gayety  of  youth  had  long  faded  out  of  sight.  Even 
when  young  she  must  have  been  plain  and  hard-fea- 
tured. Miss  Jessie  Brown  was  ten  years  younger 
than  her  sister,  and  twenty  shades  prettier.     Her  face 


10 


CRANFORD 


was  round  and  dimpled.  Miss  Jenkyns  once  said,  in 
a  passion  against  Captain  Brown  (the  cause  of  which 
I  will  tell  you  presently) ,  "  that  she  thought  it  was 
time  for  Miss  Jessie  to  leave  off  her  dimples,  and  not 


To  see  the  Alderney.' 


always  to  be  trj'ing  to  look  like  a  child."  It  was  true 
there  was  something  childlike  in  her  face  ;  and  there 
will  be,  I  think,  till  she  dies,  though  she  should  live 
to  a  hundred.  Her  eyes  were  large  blue  wondering 
eyes,  looking  straight  at  you  ;  her  nose  was  unformed 
and  snub,  and  her  lips  were  red  and  dewy  ;  she  wore 


OUR  SOCIETY  11 

her  hair,  toO;  in  little  rows  of  curls,  which  heightened 
this  appearance.  I  do  not  know  whether  she  was 
pretty  or  not ;  but  1  liked  her  face,  and  so  did  every- 
body, and  I  do  not  think  she  could  help  her  dimples. 
She  had  something  of  her  father's  jauntiness  of  gait 
and  manner ;  and  any  female  observer  might  detect 
a  slight  difference  in  the  attire  of  the  two  sisters  — 
that  of  Miss  Jessie  being  about  two  pounds  per  annum 
more  expensive  than  Miss  Brown's.  Two  pounds  was 
a  large  sum  in  Captain  Brown's  annual  disbursements. 

Such  was  the  impression  made  upon  me  by  the 
Brown  family  when  I  first  saw  them  all  together  in 
Cranford  Church.  The  Captain  I  had  met  before  — 
on  the  occasion  of  the  smoky  chimney,  which  he  had 
cured  by  some  simple  alteration  in  the  flue.  In 
church,  he  held  his  double  eye-glass  to  his  eyes  dur- 
ing the  Morning  Hymn,  and  then  lifted  up  his  head 
erect  and  sang  out  loud  and  joyfully.  He  made  the 
responses  louder  than  the  clerk  —  an  old  man  with  a 
piping  feeble  voice,  who,  I  think,  felt  aggrieved  at  the 
Captain's  sonorous  bass,  and  quavered  higher  and 
higher  in  consequence. 

On  coming  out  of  church,  the  brisk  Captain  paid 
the  most  gallant  attention  to  his  two  daughters.  He 
nodded  and  smiled  to  his  acquaintances ;  but  he 
shook  hands  with  none  until  he  had  helped  Miss 
Brown  to  unfurl  her  umbrella,  had  relieved  her  of  her 
prayer-book,  and  had  waited  patiently  till  she,  with 
trembling  nervous  hands,  had  taken  up  her  gown  to 
walk  through  the  wet  roads. 

I  wondered  what  the  Cranford  ladies  did  with 
Captain  Brown  at  their  parties.    We  had  often  rejoiced, 


12 


CRANFORD 


in  former  days,  that  there  was  no  gentleman  to  be 
attended  to,  and  to  find  conversation  for,  at  the  card- 
parties.     We  had  congratulated  ourselves  upon  the 


"  Sang  out  loud  and  joyfully y 

Bnugness  of  the  evenings  ;  and,  in  our  love  for  gentility 
and  distaste  of  mankind,  we  had  almost  persuaded  our- 
selves that  to  be  a  man  was  to  be  "vulgar";  so  that 
when  I  found  my  friend  and  hostess,  Miss  Jenkyns, 


OUR  SOCIETY  13 

was  going  to  have  a  party  in  my  honour,  and  that 
Captain  and  the  Miss  Browns  were  invited,  I  wondered 
much  what  would  be  the  course  of  the  evening.  Card- 
tables,  with  green-baize  tops,  were  set  out  by  daylight, 
just  as  usual ;  it  was  the  third  week  in  November,  so 
the  evenings  closed  in  about  four.  Candles  and  clean 
packs  of  cards  were  arranged  on  each  table.  The  fire 
was  made  up ;  the  neat  maidservant  had  received  her 
last  directions  ;  and  there  we  stood,  dressed  in  our  best, 
each  with  a  candle-lighter  in  our  hands,  ready  to  dart 
at  the  candles  as  soon  as  the  first  knock  came.  Parties 
in  Cranford  were  solemn  festivities,  making  the  ladies 
feel  gravely  elated  as  they  sat  together  in  their  best 
dresses.  As  soon  as  three  had  arrived,  we  sat  down 
to  "  Preference,"  I  being  the  unlucky  fourth .  The  next 
four  comers  were  put  down  immediately  to  another 
table  ;  and  presently  the  tea-trays,  which  I  had  seen 
set  out  in  the  storeroom  as  I  passed  in  the  morning, 
were  placed  each  on  the  middle  of  a  card-table.  The 
china  was  delicate  egg-shell ;  the  old-fashioned  silver 
glittered  with  polishing ;  but  the  eatables  were  of  the 
slightest  description.  While  the  trays  were  yet  on  the 
tables,  Captain  and  the  Miss  Browns  came  in ;  and  I 
could  see  that,  somehow  or  other,  the  Captain  was  a 
favourite  with  all  the  ladies  present.  Ruffled  brows 
were  smoothed,  sharp  voices  lowered  at  his  approach. 
Miss  Brown  looked  ill,  and  depressed  almost  to 
gloom.  Miss  Jessie  smiled  as  usual,  and  seemed 
nearly  as  popular  as  her  father.  He  immediately  and 
quietly  assumed  the  man's  place  in  the  room  ;  attended 
to  every  one's  wants,  lessened  the  pretty  maidservant's 
labour  by  waiting  on  empty  cupsand  bread-and-butter' 


14  CRANFORD 

less  ladies  ;  and  yet  did  it  all  in  so  easy  and  dignified  a 
manner,  and  so  much  as  if  it  were  a  matter  ot  course 
for  the  strong  to  attend  to  the  weak,  that  he  was  a 
true  man  throughout.  He  played  for  threepenny 
points  with  as  grave  an  interest  as  if  they  had  been 
pounds ;  and  yet,  in  all  his  attention  to  strangers,  he 
had  an  eye  on  his  suffering  daughter  —  for  suffering  I 
am  sure  she  was,  though  to  many  eyes  she  might  only 
appear  to  be  irritable.  Miss  Jessie  could  not  play 
cards,  but  she  talked  to  the  sitters-out,  who,  before  her 
coming,  had  been  rather  inclined  to  be  cross.  She 
sang,  too,  to  an  old  cracked  piano,  which  I  think  had 
been  a  spinet  in  its  youth.  Miss  Jessie  sang  "Jock  o' 
Hazeldean  "  a  little  out  of  tune ;  but  we  were  none  of 
us  musical,  though  Miss  Jenkyns  beat  time,  out  of  time, 
by  way  of  appearing  to  be  so. 

It  was  very  good  of  Miss  Jenkyns  to  do  this ;  for  I 
had  seen  that,  a  little  before,  she  had  been  a  good  deal 
annoyed  by  Miss  Jessie  Brown's  unguarded  admission 
(<i  propos  of  Shetland  wool)  that  she  had  an  uncle, 
her  mother's  brother,  who  was  a  shopkeeper  in  Edin- 
burgh. Miss  Jenkyns  tried  to  drown  this  confession 
by  a  terrible  cough  —  for  the  Honourable  Mrs.  Jamie- 
son  was  sitting  at  the  card-table  nearest  Miss  Jessie, 
and  what  would  she  say  or  think  if  she  found  out  she 
was  in  the  same  room  with  a  shopkeeper's  niece  ! 
But  Miss  Jessie  Brown  (who  had  no  tact,  as  we  all 
agreed  the  next  morning)  'would  repeat  the  informa- 
tion, and  assure  Miss  Pole  she  could  easily  get  her 
the  identical  Shetland  wool  required,  "  through  my 
uncle,  who  has  the  best  assortment  of  Shetland  goods 
of  any  one  in  Edinbro*."     It  was  to  take  the  taste  of 


OUR  SOCIETY  IS 

this  out  of  our  mouths,  and  the  sound  of  this  out  of  our 
ears,  that  Miss  Jenkyns  proposed  music  ;  so  I  say  again, 
it  was  very  good  of  lier  to  beat  time  to  tlie  song. 

When  the  trays  reappeared  with  biscuits  and  wine, 
punctually  at  a  quarter  to  nine,  there  was  conversa- 
tion, comparing  of  cards,  and  talking  over  tricks  ;  but 
by  and  by  Captain  Brown  sported  a  bit  of  literature. 

"  Have  you  seen  any  numbers  of  The  Pickwick  Pa- 
pers P''  said  he.  (They  were  then  publishing  in 
parts.)     "  Capital  thing  !  " 

Now  Miss  Jenkyns  was  daughter  of  a  deceased 
rector  of  Cranford ;  and,  on  the  strength  of  a  number 
of  manuscript  sermons,  and  a  pretty  good  library  of 
divinity,  considered  herself  literary,  and  looked  upon 
any  conversation  about  books  as  a  challenge  to  her. 
So  she  answered  and  said,  "  Yes,  she  had  seen  them ; 
indeed,  she  might  say  she  had  read  them." 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  them?"  exclaimed 
Captain  Brown.     "  Aren't  they  famously  good?  " 

So  urged.  Miss  Jenkyns  could  not  but  speak. 

"  I  must  say,  I  don't  think  they  are  by  any  means 
equal  to  Dr.  Johnson.  Still,  perhaps,  the  author  is 
young.  Let  him  persevere,  and  who  knows  what  he 
may  become  if  he  will  take  the  great  Doctor  for  his 
model."  This  was  evidently  too  much  for  Captain 
Brown  to  take  placidly ;  and  I  saw  the  words  on  the 
tip  of  his  tongue  before  Miss  Jenkyns  had  finished 
lier  sentence. 

"It  is  quite  a  different  sort  of  thing,  my  dear 
madam,"  he  began. 

"  I  am  quite  aware  of  that,"  returned  she.  "And  I 
make  allowances.  Captain  Brown." 


16 


CRANFORD 


"Just  allow  me  to  read  you  a  scene  out  of  this 
month's  number,"  pleaded  lie.  "  I  had  it  only  this 
morning,  and  I  don't  think  the  company  can  have 
read  it  yet." 

I 


The  account  of  the  '  swarry.' " 


"As  you  please,"  said  she,  settling  herself  with 
an  air  of  resignation.  He  read  the  account  of  the 
"swarry  "  which  Sam  Weller  gave  at  Bath.     Some 


,  OUR  SOCIETY  .        17 

of  us  laughed  heartily.  /  did  not  dare,  because  I  was 
staying  in  the  house.  Miss  Jenkyns  sat  in  patient 
gravity.  When  it  was  ended,  she  turned  to  me,  and 
said,  with  mild  dignity  — 

"  Fetch  me  Rasselas,  my  dear,  out  of  the  book- 
room." 

When  I  brought  it  to  her  she  turned  to  Captain 
Brown  — 

"  Now  allow  vte  to  read  you  a  scene,  and  then  the 
present  company  can  judge  between  your  favourite, 
Mr.  Boz,  and  Dr.  Johnson." 

She  read  one  of  the  conversations  between  Rasselas 
and  Imlac,  in  a  high-pitched  majestic  voice ;  and 
when  she  had  ended  she  said,  "  I  imagine  I  am  now 
justified  in  my  preference  of  Dr.  Johnson  as  a  writer 
of  fiction."  The  Captain  screwed  his  lips  up,  and 
drummed  on  the  table,  but  he  did  not  speak.  She 
thought  she  would  give  a  finishing  blow  or  two. 

"  I  consider  it  vulgar,  and  below  the  dignity  of 
literature,  to  publish  in  numbers." 

'•  How  was  The  ^aw^/er  published,  ma'am?  "asked 
Captain  Brown,  in  a  low  voice,  which  I  think  Miss 
Jenkyns  could  not  have  heard. 

"  Dr.  Johnson's  style  is  a  model  for  young  begin- 
ners. My  father  recommended  it  to  me  when  I  began 
to  write  letters  —  I  have  formed  my  own  style  upon 
it ;  I  recommend  it  to  your  favourite." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  for  him  to  exchange  his 
style  for  any  such  pompous  writing,"  said  Captain 
Brown. 

Miss  Jenkyns  felt  this  as  a  personal  aflfront,  in  a 
way  of  which  the  Captain  had  not  dreamed.     Episto- 


18  CRANFORD 

lary  writing  she  and  her  friends  considered  as  her 
forte.  Many  a  copy  of  many  a  1  tter  have  I  seen 
written  and  corrected  on  the  slate,  before  she  "  seized 
the  half-hour  just  previous  to  post-time  to  assure  " 
her  friends  of  this  or  of  that ;  and  Dr.  Johnson  was. 
as  she  said,  her  model  in  these  compositions.  She 
drew  herself  up  with  dignity,  and  only  replied  to 
Captain  Brown's  last  remark  b)'  saying,  with  marked 
emphasis  on  every  syllable,  '•  I  prefer  Dr.  Johnson  to 
Mr.  Boz." 

It  is  said  —  I  won't  vouch  for  the  fact  —  that  Captain 
Brown  was  heard  to  say,  j^j//^  voce,  '•  D — n  Dr.  John- 
son!" If  he  did,  he  was  penitent  afterwards,  as  he 
showed  by  going  to  stand  near  Miss  Jenkyns's  arm- 
chair, and  endeavouring  to  beguile  her  into  conversa- 
tion on  some  more  pleasing  subject.  But  she  was 
inexorable.  The  next  day  she  made  the  remark  I 
have  mentioned  about  Miss  Jessie's  dimples. 


J^fffer-n. 


It  was  impossible  to  live  a  month  at  Cranford  and 
not  know  the  daily  habits  of  each  resident ;  and  long 
before  my  visit  was  ended  I  knew  much  concerning 
the  whole  Brown  trio.  There  was  nothing  new  to  be 
discovered  respecting  their  poverty ;  for  they  had 
spoken  simply  and  openly  about  that  from  the  very 
first.  They  made  no  mystery  of  the  necessity  for 
their  being  economical.  All  that  remained  to  be  dis- 
covered was  the  Captain's  infinite  kindness  of  heart, 
and  the  various  modes  in  which,  unconsciously  to 
himself,  he  manifested  it.  Some  little  anecdotes 
were  talked  about  for  some  time  after  they  occurred. 
As  we  did  not  read  much,  and  as  all  the  ladies  were 
pretty  well  suited  with  servants,  there  was  a  dearth  of 
subjects  for  conversation.  We  therefore  discussed 
the  circumstance  of  the  Captain  taking  a  poor  old 
woman's  dinner  out  of  her  hands  one  very  slippery 
Sunday.  He  had  met  her  returning  from  the  bake- 
house as  he  came  from  church,  and  noticed  her  pre- 
carious footing ;  and,  with  the  grave  dignity  with 
which  he  did  everything,  he  relieved  her  of  her  bur- 

19 


20  CRANFORD 

den,  and  steered  along  the  street  by  her  side,  carry- 
ing her  baked  mutton  and  potatoes  safely  home. 
This  was  thought  very  eccentric ;  and  it  was  rather 
expected  that  he  would  pay  a  round  of  calls,  on  the 
Monday  morning,  to  explain  and  apologise  to  the 
Cranford  sense  of  propriety :  but  he  did  no  such 
thing ;  and  then  it  was  decided  that  he  was  ashamed, 
and  was  keeping  out  of  sight.  In  a  kindly  pity  for 
him  we  began  to  say,  "  After  all,  the  Sunday  morn- 
ing's occurrence  showed  great  goodness  of  heart," 
and  it  was  resolved  that  he  should  be  comforted  on 
his  next  appearance  amongst  us;  but,  lo!  he  came 
down  upon  us,  untouched  by  any  sense  of  shame, 
speaking  loud  and  bass  as  ever,  his  head  thrown 
back,  his  wig  as  jaunty  and  well-curled  as  usual,  and 
we  were  obliged  to  conclude  he  had  forgotten  all 
about  Sunday. 

Miss  Pole  and  Miss  Jessie  Brown  had  set  up  a  kind 
of  intimacy  on  the  strength  of  the  Shetland  wool  and 
the  new  knitting  stitches ;  so  it  happened  that  when 
I  went  to  visit  Miss  Pole  I  saw  more  of  the  Browns 
than  I  had  done  while  staying  with  Miss  Jenkyns, 
who  had  never  got  over  what  she  called  Captain 
Brown's  disparaging  remarks  upon  Dr.  Johnson  as  a 
writer  of  light  and  agreeable  fiction.  I  found  that 
Miss  Brown  was  seriously  ill  of  some  lingering  incur- 
able complaint,  the  pain  occasioned  by  which  gave 
the  uneasy  expression  to  her  face  that  I  had  taken 
for  unmitigated  crossness.  Cross,  too,  she  was  at 
times,  when  the  nervous  irritability  occasioned  by 
her  disease  became  past  endurance.  Miss  Jessie 
bore  with  her  at  these  times,  even  more   patiently 


THE   CAPTAIN  21 

than  she  did  with  the  bitter  self-upbraidings  by  which 
they  were  invariably  succeeded.  Miss  Brown  used 
to  accuse  herself,  not  nierely  of  hasty  and  irritable 
temper,  but  also  of  being  the  cause  why  her  father 
and  sister  were  obliged  to  pinch,  in  order  to  allow 
her  the  small  luxuries  which  were  necessaries  in  her 
condition.  She  would  so  fain  have  made  sacrifices 
for  them,  and  have  lightened  their  cares,  that  the 
original  generosity  of  her  disposition  added  acerbity 
to  her  temper.  All  this  was  borne  by  Miss  Jessie 
and  her  father  with  more  than  placidity  —  with  abso- 
lute tenderness.  I  forgave  Miss  Jessie  her  singing 
out  of  tune,  and  her  juvenility  of  dress,  when  I  saw 
her  at  home.  I  came  to  perceive  that  Captain 
Brown's  dark  Brutus  wig  and  padded  coat  (alas !  too 
often  threadbare)  were  remnants  of  the  military 
smartness  of  his  youth,  which  he  now  wore  uncon- 
sciously. He  was  a  man  of  infinite  resources,  gained 
in  his  barrack  experience.  As  he  confessed,  no  one 
could  black  his  boots  to  please  him  except  himself: 
but,  indeed,  he  was  not  above  saving  the  little  maid- 
servant's labours  in  every  way  —  knowing,  most 
likely,  that  his  daughter's  illness  made  the  place  a 
hard  one. 

He  endeavoured  to  make  peace  with  Miss  Jenkyns, 
soon  after  the  memorable  dispute  I  have  named,  by 
a  present  of  a  wooden  fire-shovel  (his  own  making) , 
having  heard  her  say  how  much  the  grating  of  an 
iron  one  annoyed  her.  She  received  the  present 
with  cool  gratitude,  and  thanked  him  formally. 
When  he  was  gone,  she  bade  me  put  it  away  in  the 
lumber-room ;  feeling,  probably,  that  no  present  from 


22 


CRANFORD 


a  man  who  preferred  Mr.  Boz  to  Dr.  Johnson  could 
be  less  jarring  than  an  iron  fire-shovel. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  when  I  left  Cranford 


"  No  one  could  black  his  boots  except  himself. " 

and  went  to  Drunible.  I  had,  however,  several  corre- 
spondents who  kept  me  aufait  as  to  the  proceedings 
of  the  dear  little  town.  Tliere  was  Miss  Pole,  who 
was  becoming  as  much  absorbed  in  crochet  as  she 


THE   CAPTAIN  23 

had  been  once  in  knitting,  and  the  burden  of  whose 
letter  was  something  like,  "  But  don't  you  forget  the 
white  worsted  at  Flint's ''  of  the  old  song ;  for  at  the 
end  of  every  sentence  of  news  came  a  fresh  direction 
as  to  some  crochet  commission  which  I  was  to  exe- 
cute for  her.  Miss  Matilda  Jenkyns  (who  did  not 
mind  being  called  Miss  Matty  when  Miss  Jenkyns 
was  not  by)  wrote  nice,  kind,  rambling  letters,  now 
and  then  venturing  into  an  opinion  of  her  own ;  but 
suddenly  pulling  herself  up,  and  either  begging  me 
not  to  name  what  she  had  said,  as  Deborah  thought 
differently,  and  she  knew,  or  else  putting  in  a  post- 
script to  the  effect  that,  since  writing  the  above,  she 
had  been  talking  over  the  subject  with  Deborah,  and 
was  quite  convinced  that,  etc.  —  (here  probably  fol- 
lowed a  recantation  of  every  opinion  she  had  given 
in  the  letter).  Then  came  Miss  Jenkyns  —  Deborah, 
as  she  liked  Miss  Matty  to  call  her,  her  father  having 
once  said  that  the  Hebrew  name  ought  to  be  so  pro- 
nounced. I  secretly  think  she  took  the  Hebrew 
prophetess  for  a  model  in  character ;  and,  indeed,  she 
was  not  unlike  the  stem  prophetess  in  some  ways, 
making  allowance,  of  course,  for  modern  customs 
and  difference  in  dress.  Miss  Jenkyns  wore  a  cravat, 
and  a  little  bonnet  like  a  jockey-cap,  and  altogether 
had  the  appearance  of  a  strong-minded  woman ; 
although  she  would  have  despised  the  modern  idea 
of  women  being  equal  to  men.  Equal,  indeed!  she 
knew  they  were  superior.  But  to  return  to  her  letters. 
Everj'thing  in  them  was  stately  and  grand,  like  her- 
self. I  have  been  looking  them  over  (dear  Miss 
Jenkyns,  how  I  honoured  her  !),  and  I  will  give  an 


24  CRANFORD 

extract,  more  especially  because  it  relates  to  our  friend 
Captain  Brown  — 

"The  Honourable  Mrs.  Jamieson  has  only  just 
quitted  me ;  and,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  she 
communicated  to  me  the  intelligence  that  she  had 
yesterday  received  a  call  from  her  revered  husband's 
quondam  friend,  Lord  Mauleverer.  You  will  not 
easily  conjecture  what  brought  his  lordship  within  the 
precincts  of  our  little  town.  It  was  to  see  Cap- 
tain Brown,  with  whom,  it  appears,  his  lordship  was 
acquainted  in  the  'plumed  wars,'  and  who  had  the 
privilege  of  averting  destruction  from  his  lordship's 
head,  when  some  great  peril  was  impending  over  it, 
off  the  misnomered  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  You  know 
our  friend  the  Honourable  Mrs.  Jamieson\s  deficiency 
in  the  spirit  of  innocent  curiosity ;  and  you  will  there- 
fore not  be  so  much  surprised  when  I  tell  you  she  was 
quite  unable  to  disclose  to  me  the  exact  nature  of  the 
peril  in  question.  I  was  anxious,  I  confess,  to  ascer- 
tain in  what  manner  Captain  Brown,  with  his  limited 
establishment,  could  receive  so  distinguished  a  guest ; 
and  I  discovered  that  his  lordship  retired  to  rest, 
and,  let  us  hope,  to  refreshing  slumbers,  at  the  Angel 
Hotel ;  but  shared  the  Brunonian  meals  during  the 
two  days  that  he  honoured  Cranford  with  his  august 
presence.  Mrs.  Johnson,  our  civil  butcher's  wife, 
informs  me  that  Miss  Jessie  purchased  a  leg  of  lamb  ; 
but,  besides  this,  I  can  hear  of  no  preparation  what- 
ever to  give  a  suitable  reception  to  so  distinguished 
a  visitor.  Perhaps  they  entertained  him  with  <  the 
feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of  soul ' ;  and  to  us,  who 
are  acquainted  with  Captain  Brown's  sad   want   of 


THE  CAPTAIN  25 

relish  for  '  the  pure  wells  of  English  undefiled,'  it 
may  be  matter  for  congratulation  that  he  has  had  the 
opportunity  of  improving  his  taste  by  holding  con- 
verse with  an  elegant  and  refined  member  of  the 
British  aristocracy.  But  from  some  mundane  failings 
who  is  altogether  free?" 

Miss  Pole  and  Miss  Matty  wrote  to  me  by  the  same 
post.  Such  a  piece  of  news  as  Lord  Mauleverer's 
visit  was  not  to  be  lost  on  the  Cranford  letter-writers  ; 
they  made  the  most  of  it.  Miss  Matty  humbly  apolo- 
gised for  writing  at  the  same  time  as  her  sister,  who 
was  so  much  more  capable  than  she  to  describe  the 
honour  done  to  Cranford  ;  but,  in  spite  of  a  little  bad 
spelling,  Miss  Matty's  account  gave  me  the  best  idea 
of  the  commotion  occasioned  by  his  lordship's  visit, 
after  it  had  occurred ;  for,  except  the  people  at  the 
Angel,  the  Browns,  Mrs.  Jamieson,  and  a  little  lad  his 
lordship  had  sworn  at  for  driving  a  dirty  hoop  against 
the  aristocratic  legs,  I  could  not  hear  of  any  one  with 
whom  his  lordship  had  held  conversation. 

My  next  visit  to  Cranford  was  in  the  summer. 
There  had  been  neither  births,  deaths,  nor  marriages 
since  I  was  there  last.  Everybody  lived  in  the  same 
house,  and  wore  pretty  nearly  the  same  well-preserved 
old-fashioned  clothes.  The  greatest  event  was,  that 
the  Miss  Jenkynses  had  purchased  a  new  carpet  for 
the  drawing-room.  Oh,  the  busy  work  Miss  Matty 
and  I  had  in  chasing  the  sunbeams,  as  they  fell  in  an 
afternoon  riglit  down  on  this  carpet  through  the 
blindless  window!  We  spread  newspapers  over  the 
places,  and  sat  down  to  our  book  or  our  work ;  and 
lo!  in  a  puarter  of  an  hour  the  sun  had  moved,  and 


26 


CRANFORD 


was  blazing  away  on  a  fresh  spot ;  and  down  again 
we  went  on  our  l<nees  to  alter  the  position  of  the 
newspapers.      We  were  very  busy,  too,  one   whole 


"  One  with  whom  his  lordship  held 
conversation." 


'^vXf'' 


morning,  before  Miss  Jenkyns  gave  her  party,  in  fol- 
lowing her  directions,  and  in  cutting  out  and  stitch- 
ing together  pieces  of  newspaper  so  as  to  form  little 
paths  to  every  chair  set  for  the  expected  visitors,  lest 
their  shoes  might  dirty  or  defile  the  purity  of  the  car- 


THE  CAPTAIN  27 

pet.     Do  you  make  paper  paths  for  every  guest  to 
walk  upon  in  London? 

Captain  Brown  and  Miss  Jenkyns  were  not  very 
cordial  to  each  other.  The  literary  dispute,  of  which 
I  had  seen  the  beginning,  was  a  "raw,"  the  slightest 
touch  on  which  made  them  wince.  It  was  the  onl) 
difference  of  opinion  they  had  ever  had  ;  but  that  dif 
ference  was  enough.  Miss  Jenkyns  could  not  refraii. 
from  talking  at  Captain  Brown ;  and,  though  Tie  diii 
not  reply,  he  drummed  with  his  fingers,  which  action 
she  felt  and  resented  as  very  disparaging  to  Dr.  John- 
son. He  was  rather  ostentatious  in  his  preference  of 
the  writings  of  Mr.  Boz ;  would  walk  through  the 
streets  so  absorbed  in  them  that  he  all  but  ran  against 
Miss  Jenkyns ;  and  though  his  apologies  were  ear- 
nest and  sincere,  and  though  he  did  not,  in  fact,  do 
more  than  startle  her  and  himself,  she  owned  to  me 
she  had  rather  he  had  knocked  her  down,  if  he  had 
only  been  reading  a  higher  style  of  hterature.  The 
poor,  brave  Captain!  he  looked  older,  and  more  worn, 
and  his  clothes  were  very  threadbare.  But  he  seemed 
as  bright  and  cheerful  as  ever,  unless  he  was  asked 
about  his  daughter's  health. 

"  She  suffers  a  great  deal,  and  she  must  suffer  more ; 
we  do  what  we  can  to  alleviate  her  pain  ;  —  God's  will 
be  done  ! "  He  took  off  his  hat  at  these  last  words. 
I  found,  from  Miss  Matty,  that  everything  had  been 
done,  in  fact.  A  medical  man,  of  high  repute  in  that 
country  neighbourhood,  had  been  sent  for,  and  every 
injunction  he  had  given  was  attended  to,  regardless 
of  expense.  Miss  Matty  was  sure  they  denied  them- 
selves many  things  in  order  to  make  the  invalid  com- 


28  CRANFORD 

fortable ;  but  they  never  spoke  about  it ;  and  as  for 
Miss  Jessie!  —  "  I  really  think  she's  an  angel,''  said 
poor  Miss  Matty,  quite  overcome.  "  To  see  her  way 
of  bearing  with  Miss  Brown's  crossness,  and  the 
bright  face  she  puts  on  after  she's  been  sitting  up  a 
whole  night  and  scolded  about  half  of  it,  is  quite 
beautiful.  Yet  she  looks  as  neat  and  as  ready  to 
welcome  the  Captain  at  breakfast-time  as  if  she  had 
been  asleep  in  the  Queen's  bed  all  night.  My  dear  ! 
you  could  never  laugh  at  her  prim  little  curls  or  her 
pink  bows  again  if  you  saw  her  as  I  have  done."  I 
could  only  feel  very  penitent,  and  greet  Miss  Jessie 
with  double  respect  when  I  met  her  next.  She  looked 
faded  and  pinched  ;  and  her  lips  began  to  quiver,  as 
if  she  was  very  weak,  when  she  spoke  of  her  sister. 
But  she  brightened,  and  sent  back  the  tears  that  were 
glittering  in  her  pretty  eyes,  as  she  said  — 

"  But,  to  be  sure,  what  a  town  Cranford  is  for  kind- 
ness! I  don't  suppose  any  one  has  a  better  dinner 
than  usual  cooked,  but  the  best  part  of  all  comes  in 
a  little  covered  basin  for  my  sister.  The  poor  people 
will  leave  their  earliest  vegetables  at  our  door  for  her. 
They  speak  short  and  gruff,  as  if  they  were  ashamed 
of  it ;  but  I  am  sure  it  often  goes  to  my  heart  to  see 
their  thoughtfulness."  The  tears  now  came  back  and 
overflowed ;  but  after  a  minute  or  two  she  began  to 
scold  herself,  and  ended  by  going  away  the  same 
cheerful  Miss  Jessie  as  ever. 

"  But  why  does  not  this  Lord  Mauleverer  do  some- 
thing for  the  man  who  saved  his  life?"  said  I. 

"  Why,  you  see,  unless  Captain  Brown  has  some 
reason  for  it,  he  never  speaks  about  being  poor ;  and 


THE   CAPTAIN  29 

he  walked  along  by  his  lordship  looking  as  happy  and 
cheerful  as  a  prince ;  and  as  they  never  called  at- 
tention to  their  dinner  by  apologies,  and  as  Miss 
Brown  was  better  that  day,  and  all  seemed  bright, 
I  daresay  his  lordship  never  knew  how  much  care 
there  was  in  the  background.  He  did  send  game  in 
the  winter  pretty  often,  but  now  he  is  gone  abroad." 

I  had  often  occasion  to  notice  the  use  that  was 
made  of  fragments  and  small  opportunities  in  Cran- 
ford  :  the  rose-leaves  that  were  gathered  ere  they  fell 
to  make  into  a  pot-pourri  for  some  one  who  had  no 
garden ;  the  little  bundles  of-  lavender-flowers  sent  to 
strew  the  drawers  of  some  town-dweller,  or  to  burn  in 
the  chamber  of  some  invalid.  Things  that  many 
would  despise,  and  actions  which  it  seemed  scarcely 
worth  while  to  perform,  were  all  attended  to  in  Cran- 
ford.  Miss  Jenkyns  stuck  an  apple  full  of  cloves,  to 
be  heated  and  smell  pleasantly  in  Miss  Brown's  room  ; 
and  as  she  put  in  each  clove  she  uttered  a  Johnsonian 
sentence.  Indeed,  she  never  could  think  of  the 
Browns  without  talking  Johnson ;  and,  as  they  were 
seldom  absent  from  her  thoughts  just  then,  I  heard 
many  a  rolling  three-piled  sentence. 

Captain  Brown  called  one  day  to  thank  Miss  Jen- 
kyns for  many  little  kindnesses,  which  1  did  not 
know  until  then  that  she  had  rendered.  He  had  sud- 
denly become  like  an  old  man ;  his  deep  bass  voice 
had  a  quavering  in  it,  his  eyes  looked  dim,  and  the 
lines  on  his  face  were  deep.  He  did  not  —  could  not 
—  speak  cheerfully  of  his  daughter's  state,  but  he 
talked  with  manly,  pious  resignation,  and  not  much. 
Twice  over  he  said,  "  What  Jessie  had  been  to  us, 


30  CRANFORD 

God  only  knows!  "  and  after  the  secopd  time,  he  got 
up  hastily,  shook  hands  all  round  without  speaking, 
and  left  the  room. 

That  afternoon  we  perceived  little  groups  in  the 
street,  all  listening  with  faces  aghast  to  some  tale  or 
other.  Miss  Jenkyns  wondered  what  could  be  the 
matter  for  some  time  before  she  took  the  undignified 
step  of  sending  Jenny  out  to  inquire. 

Jenny  came  back  with  a  white  face  of  terror.  "  Oh, 
ma'am!  oh.  Miss  Jenkyns,  ma'am  !  Captain  Brown  is 
killed  by  them  nasty  cruel  railroads  ! "  and  she  burst 
into  tears.  She,  along  with  many  others,  had  expe- 
rienced the  poor  Captain's  kindness. 

"How?  —  where  —  where?  Good  God!  Jenny, 
don't  waste  time  in  crying,  but  tell  us  something." 
Miss  Matty  rushed  out  into  the  street  at  once,  and 
collared  the  man  who  was  telling  the  tale. 

"Come  in  —  come  to  my  sister  at  once,  —  Miss 
Jenkyns,  the  rector's  daughter.  Oh,  man,  man  !  — 
say  it  is  not  true,"  she  cried,  as  she  brought  the 
affrighted  carter,  sleeking  down  his  hair,  into  the 
drawing-room,  where  he  stood  with  his  wet  boots  on 
the  new  carpet,  and  no  one  regarded  it. 

"Please,  mum,  it  is  true.  I  seed  it  myself,"  and 
he  shuddered  at  the  recollection.  "  The  Captain  was 
a-reading  some  new  book  as  he  was  deep  in,  a-waiting 
for  the  down  train ;  and  there  was  a  little  lass  as 
wanted  to  come  to  its  mammy,  and  gave  its  sister  the 
slip,  and  came  toddling  across  the  line.  And  he 
looked  up  sudden,  at  the  sound  of  the  train  coming, 
and  seed  the  child,  and  he  darted  on  the  line  and 
cotched  it  up,  and  his  foot  slipped,  and  the  train  came 


THE    CAPTAIN 


31 


over  him  in  no  time.  Oh  Lord,  Lord  !  Mum,  it's 
quite  true  —  and  they've  come  over  to  tell  his  daugh- 
ters.    The  child's  safe,  though,  with  only  a  bang  on 


'  And  he  shuddered  at  the  recollection." 


its  shoulder,  as  he  threw  it  to  its  mammy.  Poor 
Captain  would  be  glad  of  that,  mum,  wouldn't  he  ? 
God  bless  him  !  "  The  great  rough  carter  puckered 
up  his  manly  face,  and  turned  away  to  hide  his  tears. 
I  turned  to  Miss  Jenkyns.     She  looked  very  ill,  as  if 


32  CRANFORD 

she  were  going  to  faint,  and  signed  to  me  to  open 
the  window. 

"  Matilda,  bring  me  my  bonnet.  I  must  go  lo 
those  girls.  ,  God  pardon  me,  if  ever  I  have  spoken 
contemptuously  to  the  Captain  ! " 

Miss  Jenkyns  arrayed  herself  to  go  out,  telling  Miss 
Matilda  to  give  the  man  a  glass  of  wine.  While  she 
was  away  Miss  Matty  and  I  huddled  over  the  fire, 
talking  in  a  low  and  awestruck  voice.  I  know  we 
cried  quietly  all  the  time. 

Miss  Jenkyns  came  home  in  a  silent  mood,  and  we 
durst  not  ask  her  many  questions.  She  told  us 
that  Miss  Jessie  had  fainted,  and  that  she  and  Miss 
Pole  had  had  some  difficulty  in  bringing  her  round  ; 
but  that,  as  soon  as  she  recovered,  she  begged  one  of 
them  to  go  and  sit  with  her  sister. 

*•  Mr.  Hoggins  says  she  cannot  live  many  days,  and 
she  shall  be  spared  this  shock,"  said  Miss  -Jessie, 
shivering  with  feelings  to  which  she  dared  not  give 
way. 

"  But  how  can  you  manage,  my  dear  ? "  asked  Mis" 
Jenkyns ;  "  you  cannot  bear  up,  she  must  see  youi 
tears." 

"  God  will  help  me  —  I  will  not  give  way  —  she 
was  asleep  when  the  news  came  ;  she  may  be  asleep 
yet.  She  would  be  so  utterly  miserable,  not  mereh' 
at  my  father's  death,  but  to  think  of  what  would 
become  of  me  ;  she  is  so  good  to  me."  She  looked 
up  earnestly  in  their  faces  with  her  soft  true  eyes, 
and  Miss  Pole  tcld  Miss  Jenkyns  afterwards  she  could 
hardly  bear  it,  knowing,  as  she  did,  how  Miss  Brown 
treated  her  sister. 


THE   CAPTAIN  33 

However,  it  was  settled  according  to  Miss  Jessie's 
wisli.  Miss  Brown  was  to  l)e  told  her  father  had 
been  summoned  to  take  a  short  journey  on  railway 
business.  They  had  managed  it  in  some  way  — 
Miss  Jenkyns  could  not  exactly  say  how.  Miss  Pole 
was  to  stop  with  Miss  Jessie.  Mrs.  Jamieson  had 
sent  to  inquire.  And  this  was  all  we  heard  that 
night ;  and  a  sorrowful  night  it  was.  The  next  day 
a  full  account  of  the  fatal  accident  was  in  the  county 
paper  which  Miss  Jenkyns  took  in.  Her  eyes  were 
very  weak,  she  said,  and  she  asked  me  to  read  it. 
When  I  came  to  the  "gallant  gentleman  was  deeply 
engaged  in  the  perusal  of  a  number  of  Pickwick, 
which  he  had  just  received,"  Miss  Jenkyns  shook  her 
head  long  and  solemnly,  and  then  sighed  out,  "  Poor,, 
dear,  infatuated  man  !  " 

The  corpse  was  to  be  taken  from  the  station  to 
the  parish  church,  there  to  be  interred.  Miss  Jessie 
had  set  her  heart  on  following  it  to  the  grave;  and 
no  dissuasives  could  alter  her  resolve.  Her  restraint 
upon  herself  made  her  almost  obstinate  ;  she  resisted 
all  Miss  Pole's  entreaties  and  Miss  Jenkyns's  advice. 
At  last  Miss  Jenkyns  gave  up  the  point ;  and  after  a 
silence,  which  I  feared  portended  some  deep  displeas- 
ure against  Miss  Jessie,  Miss  Jenkyns  said  she  should 
accompany  the  latter  to  the  funeral. 

''  It  is  not  fit  for  you  to  go  alone.  It  would  be 
against  both  propriety  and  humanity  were  I  to  allow 
it." 

Miss  Jessie  seemed  as  if  she  did  not  half  like  this 
arrangement ;  but  her  obstinacy,  if  she  had  any,  had 
been  exhausted  in  her  determination  to  go  to  the 


34  CRANFORD 

interment.  She  longed,  poor  thing,  I  have  no  doubt, 
to  cry  alone  over  the  grave  of  the  dear  father  to 
whom  she  had  been  all  in  all,  and  to  give  way,  for 
one  little  half-hour,  uninterrupted  by  sympathy  and 
unobserved  by  friendship.  But  it  was  not  to  be. 
That  afternoon  Miss  Jenkyns  sent  out  for  a  yard  of 
black  crape,  and  employed  herself  busily  in  trimming 
the  little  black  silk  bonnet  I  have  spoken  about. 
When  it  was  finished  she  put  it  on,  and  looked  at  us 
for  approbation  —  admiration  she  despised.  I  was 
full  of  sorrow,  but,  by  one  of  those  whimsical  thoughts 
which  come  unbidden  into  our  heads,  in  times  of 
deepest  grief,  I  no  sooner  saw  the  bonnet  than  I  was 
reminded  of  a  helmet ;  and  in  that  hybrid  bonnet, 
half-helmet,  half-jockey  cap,  did  Miss  Jenkyns  at- 
tend Captain  Brown's  funeral,  and,  I  believe,  sup- 
ported Miss  Jessie  with  a  tender  indulgent  firmness 
which  was  invaluable,  allowing  her  to  weep  her  pas- 
sionate fill  before  they  left. 

Miss  Pole,  Miss  Matty,  and  I,  meanwhile,  attended 
to  Miss  Brown :  and  hard  work  we  found  it  to  relieve 
her  querulous  and  never-gnding  complaints.  But  if 
we  were  so  weary  and  dispirited,  what  must  Miss 
Jessie  have  been  !  Yet  she  came  back  almost  calm, 
as  if  she  had  gained  a  new  strength.  She  put  off 
her  mourning  dress,  and  came  in,  looking  pale  and 
gentle,  thanking  us  each  with  a  soft  long  pressure  of 
the  hand.  She  could  even  smile  —  a  faint,  sweet, 
wintry  smile  —  as  if  to  reassure  us  of  her  power  to 
tndure:  but  her  look  made  our  eyes  fill  suddenly 
with  tears,  mor«  than  if  she  had  cried  outright. 

It  was  settled  that  Miss  Pole  was  to  remain  with 


THE  CAPTALV  35 

her  all  the  watching  livelong  night ;  and  that  Miss 
Matty  and  I  were  to  return  in  the  morning  to  re- 
lieve them,  and  give  Miss  Jessie  the  opportunity 
for  a  few  hours  of  sleep.  But  when  the  morning 
came,  Miss  Jenkyns  appeared  at  the  breakfast-table, 
equipped  in  her  helmet-bonnet,  and  ordered  Miss 
Matty  to  stay  at  home,  as  she  meant  to  go  and  help 
to  nurse.  She  was  evidently  in  a  state  of  great 
friendly  excitement,  which  she  showed  by  eating  her 
breakfast  standing,  and  scolding  the  household  all 
round. 

No  nursing  —  no  energetic  strong-minded  woman 
could  help  Miss  Brown  now.  There  was  that  in  the 
room  as  we  entered  which  was  stronger  than  us  all, 
and  made  us  shrink  into  solemn  awestruck  helpless- 
ness. Miss  Brown  was  dying.  We  hardly  knew  her 
voice  it  was  so  devoid  of  the  complaining  tone  we  had 
always  associated  with  it.  Miss  Jessie  told  me  after- 
wards that  it,  and  her  face  too,  were  just  what  they 
had  been  formerly,  when  her  mothers  death  left  her 
the  young  anxious  head  of  the  family,  of  whom  only 
Miss  Jessie  survived. 

She  was  conscious  of  her  sister's  presence,  though 
not,  I  think,  of  ours.  We  stood  a  little  behind  the 
curtain :  Miss  Jessie  knelt  with  her  face  near  her 
sister's,  in  order  to  catch  the  last  soft  awful 
whispers. 

"Oh,  Jessie!  Jessie!  How  selfish  I  have  been! 
God  forgive  me  for  letting  you  sacrifice  yourself  for 
me  as  you  did!  I  have  so  loved  you  —  and  yet  I  have 
thought  only  of  myself.     God  forgive  me!  " 

"  Hush,  love!  hush!"  said  Miss  Jessie  sobbing. 


36  CRANFORD 

"And  my  father!  my  dear,  dear  father!  I  will  not 
complain  now,  if  God  will  give  me  strength  to  be  pa- 
tient. But,  oh,  Jessie!  tell  my  father  how  I  longed 
and  yearned  to  see  him  at  last,  and  to  ask  his  forgive- 
ness. He  can  never  know  now  how  I  loved  him  — 
oh!  if  I  might  but  tell  him,  before  I  die!  What  a  life 
of  sorrow  his  has  been,  and  I  have  done  so  little  to 
cheer  him!" 

A  light  came  into  Miss  Jessie's  face.  "Would  it 
comfort  you,  dearest,  to  think  that  he  does  know?  — 
would  it  comfort  you,  love,  to  know  that  his  cares,  his 
sorrows "  Her  voice  quivered,  but  she  stead- 
ied it  into  calmness, — "Mary!  he  has  gone  before 
you  to  the  place  where  the  weary  are  at  rest.  He 
knows  now  how  you  loved  him." 

A  strange  look,  which  was  not  distress,  came  over 
Miss  Brown's  face.  She  did  not  speak  for  some  time, 
but  then  we  saw  her  lips  form  the  words,  rather  than 
heard  the  sound  —  "  Father,  mother,  Harry,  Archie  ; " 
—  then,  as  if  it  were  a  new  idea  throwing  a  filmy 
shadow  over  her  darkened  mind  —  "  But  you  will  be 
alone,  Jessie!" 

Miss  Jessie  had  been  feeling  this  all  during  the  si- 
lence, I  think ;  for  the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks 
like  rain  at  these  words,  and  she  could  not  answer  at 
first.  Then  she  put  her  hands  together  tight,  and 
lifted  them  up,  and  said  —  but  not  to  us  — 

"Though  He  slay  me  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him." 

In  a  few  moments  more  Miss  Brown  lay  calm  and 
still  —  never  to  sorrow  or  murmur  more. 

After  this  second  funeral,  Miss  Jenkyns  insisted 
that  Miss  Jessie  should  come  to  stay  with  her  rather 


THE   CAPTAIN  37 

than  go  back  to  the  desolate  house,  which,  in  fact,  we 
learned  from  Miss  Jessie,  must  now  be  given  up,  as 
she  had  not  wherewithal  to  maintain  it.  She  had 
something  above  twenty  pounds  a-year,  besides  the 
interest  of  the  money  for  which  the  furniture  would 
sell ;  but  she  could  not  live  upon  that :  and  so  we 
talked  over  her  qualifications  for  earning  money. 

"I  can  sew  neatly,"  said  she,  "and  I  like  nursing. 
1  think,  too,  I  could  manage  a  house,  if  any  one  would 
try  me  as  housekeeper ;  or  I  would  go  into  a  shop  as 
saleswoman,  if  they  would  have  patience  with  me  at 
first." 

Miss  Jenkyns  declared,  in  an  angry  voice,  that  she 
should  do  no  such  thing ;  and  talked  to  herself  about 
'•  some  people  having  no  idea  of  their  rank  as  a  cap- 
tain's daughter,"  nearly  an  hour  afterwards,  when  she 
brought  Miss  Jessie  up  a  basin  of  delicately-made 
arrow-root,  and  stood  over  her  like  a  dragoon  until 
the  last  spoonful  was  finished :  then  she  disappeared. 
Miss  Jessie  began  to  tell  me  some  more  of  the  plans 
which  had  suggested  themselves  to  her,  and  insensibly 
fell  into  talking  of  the  days  that  were  past  and  gone, 
and  interested  me  so  much  I  neither  knew  nor  heeded 
how  time  passed.  We  were  both  startled  when  Miss 
Jenkyns  reappeared,  and  caught  us  crying.  I  was 
afraid  lest  she  would  be  displeased,  as  she  often  said 
that  crying  hindered  digestion,  and  I  knew  she  wanted 
Miss  Jessie  to  get  strong ;  but,  instead,  she  looked 
queer  and  excited,  and  fidgeted  round  us  without 
saying  anything.     At  last  she  spoke. 

"I  have  been  so  much  startled  —  no,  I've  not  been 
at  all  .startled  —  don't  mind  me,  my  dear  Miss  Jessie 


38  CRANFORD 

—  I've  been  very  much  surprised  —  in  fact,  IVe  had  a 
caller,  whom  you  knew  once,  my  dear  Miss  Jessie *' 

Miss  Jessie  went  very  white,  then  flushed  scarlet, 
and  looked  eagerly  at  Miss  Jenkyns. 

"  A  gentleman,  my  dear,  who  wants  to  know  if  you 
would  see  him." 

"  Is  it  ?  —  it  is  not "  stammered  ^out  Miss  Jessie 

—  and  got  no  farther. 

"  This  is  his  card,"  said  Miss  Jenkyns,  giving  it  to 
Miss  Jessie ;  and  while  her  head  was  bent  over  it. 
Miss  Jenkyns  went  through  a  series  of  winks  and  odd 
faces  to  me,  and  formed  her  lips  into  a  long  sentence, 
of  which,  of  course,  I  could  not  understand  a  word. 

"May  he  come  up?  "  asked  Miss  Jenkyns  at  last. 

"Oh  yes!  certainly!"  said  Miss  Jessie,  as  much  as 
to  say,  this  is  your  house,  you  may  show  any  visitor 
where  you  like.  She  took  up  some  knitting  of  Miss 
Matty's  and  began  to  be  very  busy,  though  I  could  see 
how  she  trembled  all  over. 

Miss  Jenkyns  rang  the  bell,  and  told  the  servant 
who  answered  it  to  show  Major  Gordon  upstairs  ;  and, 
presently,  in  walked  a  tall,  fine,  frank-looking  man  of 
forty  or  upwards.  He  shook  hands  with  Miss  Jessie  ; 
but  he  could  not  see  her  eyes,  she  kept  them  so  fixed 
on  the  ground.  Miss  Jenkyns  asked  me  if  I  would 
come  and  help  her  to  tie  up  the  preserves  in  the  store- 
room ;  and,  though  Miss  Jessie  plucked  at  my  gown, 
and  even  looked  up  at  me  with  begging  eye,  I  durst 
not  refuse  to  go  where  Miss  Jenkyns  asked.  Instead 
of  tying  up  preserves  in  the  store-room,  however,  we 
went  to  talk  in  the  dining-room ;  and  there  Miss 
Jenkyns  told  me  what  Major  Gordon  had  told  her ;  — 


THE  CAPTAIN 


39 


how  he  had  sen-ed  in  the  same  regiment  with  Captain 
Brown,  and  had  become  acquainted  with  Miss  Jessie, 
then  a  sweet-looking  blooming  girl  of  eighteen ;  how 


'  He  shook  hands  with  Miss  Jessie' 


the  acquaintance  had  grown  into  love  on  his  part, 
though  it  had  been  some  years  before  he  had  spoken ; 
how,  on  becoming  possessed,  through  the  will  of  an 
uncle,  of  a  good  estate  in  Scotland,  he  had  offered  and 
been  refused,  though  with  so  much  agitation  and  evi- 


40  CRANFORD 

dent  distress  that  he  was  sure  she  was  not  indifferent 
to  him ;  and  how  he  had  discovered  that  the  obstacle 
was  the  fell  disease  which  was,  even  then,  too  surely 
threatening  her  sister.  She  had  mentioned  that  the 
surgeons  foretold  intense  suffering ;  and  there  was  no 
one  but  herself  to  nurse  her  poor  Mary,  or  cheer  and 
comfort  her  father  during  the  time  of  illness.  They 
had  had  long  discussions  ;  and  on  her  refusal  to  pledge 
herself  to  him  as  his  wife  when  all  should  be  over,  he 
had  grown  angry,  and  broken  off  entirely,  and  gone 
abroad,  believing  that  she  was  a  cold-hearted  person 
whom  he  would  do  well  to  forget.  He  had  been 
travelling  in  the  East,  and  was  on  his  return  home 
when,  at  Rome,  he  saw  the  account  of  Captain  Brown's 
death  in  Galignani. 

Just  then  Miss  Matty,  who  had  been  out  all  the 
morning,  and  had  only  lately  returned  to  the  house, 
burst  in  with  a  face  of  dismay  and  outraged  propriety. 

"Oh,  goodness  me!"  she  said.  "  Deborah,  there's 
a  gentleman  sitting  in  the  drawing-room  with  his  arm 
round  Miss  Jessie's  waist ! "  Miss  Matty's  eyes  looked 
large  with  terror. 

Miss  Jenkyns  snubbed  her  down  in  an  instant. 

"  The  most  proper  place  in  the  world  for  his  arm 
to  be  in.  Go  away,  Matilda,  and  mind  your  own  busi- 
ness." This  from  her  sister,  who  had  hitherto  been 
a  model  of  feminine  decorum,  was  a  blow  for  poor 
Miss  Matty,  and  with  a  double  shock  she  left  the 
room. 

The  last  time  I  ever  saw  poor  Miss  Jenkyns  was 
many  years  after  this.  Mrs.  Gordon  had  kept  up  a 
warm  and  affectionate  intercourse  with  all  at  Cranford. 


THE   CAPTAIN  41 

Miss  Jenkyns,  Miss  Matty,  and  Miss  Pole  had  all  been 
to  visit  her,  and  returned  with  wonderful  accounts  of 
her  house,  her  husband,  her  dress,  and  her  looks. 
For,  with  happiness,  something  of  her  early  bloom 
returned ;  she  had  been  a  year  or  two  younger  than 
we  had  taken  her  for.  Her  eyes  were  always  lovely, 
and,  as  Mrs.  Gordon,  her  dimples  were  not  out  of 
place.  At  the  time  to  which  I  have  referred,  when  I 
last  saw  Miss  Jenkyns,  that  lady  was  old  and  feeble, 
and  had  lost  something  of  her  strong  mind.  Little 
Flora  Gordon  was  staying  with  the  Misses  Jenkyns, 
and  when  I  came  in  she  was  reading  aloud  to  Miss 
Jenkyns,  who  lay  feeble  and  changed  on  the  sofa. 
Flora  ])ut  down  The  Rambler  when  I  came  in. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Miss  Jenkyns,  "  you  find  me  chang^, 
my  dear.  I  can't  see  as  I  used  to  do.  If  Flora  were 
not  here  to  read  to  me,  I  hardly  know  how  I  should 
get  through  the  day.  Did  you  ever  read  The  Rambler  ? 
It's  a  wonderful  book  —  wonderful!  and  the  most  im- 
proving reading  for  Flora  "  (which  I  daresay  it  would 
have  been  if  she  could  have  read  half  the  words  with- 
out spelling,  and  could  have  understood  the  meaning 
of  a  third), "  better  than  that  strange  old  book,  with  the 
queer  name,  poor  Captain  Brown  was  killed  for  read- 
ing—  that  book  by  Mr.  Boz,  you  know — Old  Poz  ; 
when  I  was  a  girl  —  but  that's  a  long  time  ago — I 
acted  Lucy  in  Old  Poz.''''  She  babbled  on  long  enough 
for  Flora  to  get  a  good  long  spell  at  the  Christmas 
Carol,  which  Miss  Matty  had  left  on  the  table. 


tn  Love'b^lffair  ofl2y\q^(^o. 

I  THOUGHT  that  probably  my  connection  with  Cran- 
ford  would  cease  after  Miss  Jenkyn's  death  ;  at  least, 
that  it  would  have  to  be  kept  up  by  correspondence, 
which  bears  much  the  same  relation  to  personal  inter- 
coyrse  that  the  books  of  dried  plants  I  sometimes  see 
("  Hortus  Siccus,"  1  think  they  call  the  thing)  do  to 
the  living  and  fresh  flowers  in  the  lanes  and  meadows. 
I  was  pleasantly  surprised,  therefore,  by  receiving  a 
letter  from  Miss  Pole  (who  had  always  come  in  for  a 
supplementary  week  after  my  annual  visit  to  Miss 
Jenkyns)  proposing  that  I  should  go  and  stay  with 
her ;  and  then,  in  a  couple  of  days  after  my  accejjt- 
ance,  came  a  note  from  Miss  Matty,  in  which,  in  a 
rather  circuitous  and  very  humble  manner,  she  told 
me  how  much  pleasure  I  should  confer  if  I  could  spend 
a  week  or  two  with  her,  either  before  or  after  I  had 
been  at  Miss  Pole's  ;  "  for,"  she  said,  "  since  my  dear 
sister's  death  I  am  well  aware  I  have  no  attractions  to 
offer ;  it  is  only  to  the  kindness  of  my  friends  that  I 
can  owe  their  company." 

Of  course  I  promised  to  come  to  dear  Miss  Matty 
as  soon  as  I  had  ended  my  visit  to  Miss  Pole ;  and 
42 


A   LOVE  AFFAIR    OF  LONG   AGO  43 

the  day  after  my  arrival  at  Cranford  I  went  to  see  her, 
much  wondering  what  the  house  would  be  like  with- 
out Miss  Jenkyns,  and  rather  dreading  the  changed 
aspect  of  things.  Miss  Matty  began  to  cry  as  soon 
as  she  saw  me.  She  was  evidently  nervous  from  hav- 
ing anticipated  my  call.  I  comforted  her  as  well  as  I 
could  ;  and  I  found  the  best  consolation  I  could  give 
was  the  honest  praise  that  came  from  my  heart  as  I 
spoke  of  the  deceased.  Miss  Matty  slowly  shook  her 
head  over  each  virtue  as  it  was  named  and  attributed 
to  her  sister ;  and  at  last  she  could  not  restrain  the 
tears  which  had  long  been  silently  flowing,  but  hid  her 
face  behind  her  handkerchief,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"Dear  Miss  Matty!"  said  I,  taking  her  hand  —  for 
indeed  I  did  not  know  in  what  way  to  tell  her  how 
sorry  I  was  for  her,  left  deserted  in  the  world.  She 
put  down  her  handkerchief,  and  said  — 

"  My  dear,  I'd  rather  you  did  not  call  me  Matty. 
She  did  not  like  it ;  but  I  did  many  a  thing  she  did 
not  like,  I'm  afraid  —  and  now  she's  gone!  If  you 
please,  my  love,  will  you  call  me  Matilda?" 

I  promised  faithfully,  and  began  to  practise  the  new 
name  with  Miss  Pole  that  very  day ;  and,  by  degrees, 
Miss  Matilda's  feeling  on  the  subject  was  known 
through  Cranford,  and  we  all  tried  to  drop  the  more 
familiar  name,  but  with  so  little  success  that  by  and 
by  we  gave  up  the  attempt. 

My  visit  to  Miss  Pole  was  very  quiet.  Miss  Jenkyns 
had  so  long  taken  the  lead  in  Cranford  that,  now  she 
was  gone,  they  hardly  knew  how  to  give  a  party.  The 
Honourable  Mrs.  Jamieson,  to  whom  Miss  Jenkyns 
herself  had  always  yielded  the  post  of  honour,  was  fat 


44 


CRANFORD 


and  inert,  and  very  much  at  the  mercy  of  her  old 
servants.  If  they  chose  that  she  should  give  a  party, 
they  reminded  her  of  the  necessity  for  so  doing ;  if  not, 
she  let  it  alone.  There  was  all  the  more  time  for  me 
to  hear  old-world  stories  from  Miss  Pole,  while  she  sat 


'  If  you  please,  wy  love,  will  you  call  me  Matilda  f  " 


knitting,  and  I  making  my  father's  shirts.  I  always 
took  a  quantity  of  plain  sewing  to  Cranford ;  for,  as  we 
did  not  read  much,  or  walk  much,  I  found  it  a  capital 
time  to  get  through  my  work.  One  of  Miss  Pole's 
stories  related  to  a  shadow  of  a  love  affair  that  was 
dimly  perceived  or  suspected  long  years  before. 


A  LOVE  AFFAIR    OF  LONG  AGO  45 

Presently,  the  time  arrived  when  1  was  to  remove  to 
Miss  Matilda's  house.  I  found  her  timid  and  anxious 
about  the  arrangements  for  my  comfort.  Many  a  time, 
while  I  was  unpacking,  did  she  come  backwards  and 
forwards  to  stir  the  fire,  which  burned  all  the  worse  for 
being  so  frequently  poked. 

"  Have  you  drawers  enough,  dear  ?  "  asked  she.  "  I 
don't  know  exactly  how  my  sister  used  to  arrange 
them.  She  had  capital  methods.  I  am  sure  she 
would  have  trained  a  servant  in  a  week  to  make  a  better 
fire  than  this,  and  Fanny  has  been  with  me  four 
months." 

This  subject  of  servants  was  a  standing  grievance, 
and  I  could  not  wonder  much  at  it;  for  if  gentlemen 
were  scarce,  and  almost  unheard  of  in  the  "  genteel 
society"  of  Cranford,  they  or  their  counterparts — 
handsome  young  men — abounded  in  the  lower  classes. 
The  pretty  neat  servant-maids  had  their  choice  of 
desirable  "  followers  "' ;  and  their  mistresses,  without 
having  the  sort  of  mysterious  dread  of  men  and  mat- 
rimony that  Miss  Matilda  had,  might  well  feel  a  little 
anxious  lest  the  heads  of  their  comely  maids  should 
be  turned  by  the  joiner,  or  the  butcher,  or  the  gardener, 
who  were  obliged,  by  their  callings,  to  come  to  the 
house,  and  who,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  were  gener- 
ally handsome  and  unmarried.  Fanny's  lovers,  if  she 
had  any — and  Miss  Matilda  suspected  her  of  so  many 
flirtations  that,  if  she  had  not  been  verj-  pretty,  I 
should  have  doubted  her  having  one  —  were  a  constant 
anxiety  to  her  mistress.  She  was  forbidden,  by  the 
articles  of  her  engagement,  to  have  "  followers  " ;  and 
though  she  had  answered,  innocently  enough,  doubling 


46  CRANFORD 

up  the  hem  of  her  apron  as  she  spoke,  "  Please,  ma'am, 
I  never  had  more  than  one  at  a  time,"  Miss  Mattie 
prohibited  that  one.  But  a  vision  of  a  man  seemed 
to  haunt  the  kitchen.  Fanny  assured  me  that  it  was 
all  fancy,  or  else  I  should  have  said  myself  that  I  had 
seen  a  man's  coat-tails  whisk  into  the  scullery  once, 
when  I  went  on  an  errand  into  the  store-room  at  night ; 
and  another  evening,  when,  our  watches  having 
stopped,  I  went  to  look  at  the  clock,  there  was  a  very 
odd  appearance,  singularly  like  a  young  man  squeezed 
up  between  the  clock  and  the  back  of  the  open  kitchen 
door;  and  I  thought  Fanny  snatched  up  the  can- 
dle very  hastily,  so  as  to  throw  the  shadow  on  the 
clock  face,  while  she  very  positively  told  me  the  time 
half  an  hour  too  early,  as  we  found  out  afterwards  by 
the  church  clock.  But  I  did  not  add  to  Miss  Matty's 
anxieties  by  naming  my  suspicions,  especially  as 
Fanny  said  to  me,  the  next  day,  that  it  was  such  a 
queer  kitchen  for  having  odd  shadows  about  it,  she 
really  was  almost  afraid  to  stay  ;  "for  you  know,  miss," 
she  added,  "  I  don't  see  a  creature  from  six  o'clock 
tea  till  Missus  rings  the  bell  for  prayers  at  ten." 

However,  it  so  fell  out  that  Fanny  had  to  leave ; 
and  Miss  Matilda  begged  me  to  stay  and  "  settle  her  " 
with  the  new  maid  ;  to  which  I  consented,  after  I  had 
heard  from  my  father  that  he  did  not  want  me  at  home. 
The  new  servant  was  a  rough,  honest-looking  country 
girl,  who  had  only  lived  in  a  farm  place  before ;  but  I 
liked  her  looks  when  she  came  to  be  hired ;  and  1 
promised  Miss  Matilda  to  put  her  in  the  ways  of  the 
house.  The  said  ways  were  religiously  such  as  Miss 
Matilda  thought  her  sister  would  approve.     Many  a 


A   LOVE  AFFAIR    OF  LONG  AGO  47 

domestic  rule  and  regulation  liad  been  a  subject  of 
plaintive  whispered  murmur  to  me  during  Miss 
Jenkyns's  life ;  but  now  that  she  was  gone,  I  do  not 
think  that  even  I,  who  was  a  favourite,  durst  have  sug- 
gested an  alteration.  To  give  an  instance :  we  con- 
stantly adhered  to  the  forms  which  were  observed, 
at  meal  times,  in  "my  father,  the  rector's  house." 
Accordingly,  we  had  always  wine  and  dessert ;  but 
the  decanters  were  only  filled  when  there  was  a  party, 
and  what  remained  was  seldom  touched,  though  we 
had  two  wine  glasses  apiece  every  day  after  dinner, 
until  the  next  festive  occasion  arrived,  when  the  state 
of  the  remainder  wine  was  examined  into  in  a  family 
council.  The  dregs  were  often  given  to  the  poor ;  but 
occasionally,  when  a  good  deal  had  been  left  at  the 
last  party  (five  months  ago,  it  might  be),  it  was  added 
to  some  of  a  fresh  bottle,  brought  up  from  the  cellar. 
I  fancy  poor  Captain  Brown  did  not  much  like  wine, 
for  I  noticed  he  never  finished  his  first  glass,  and  most 
military  men  take  several.  Then,  as  to  our  dessert, 
Miss  Jenkyns  used  to  gather  currants  and  gooseberries 
for  it  herself,  which  I  sometimes  thought  would  have 
tasted  better  fresh  from  the  trees  ;  but  then,  as  Miss 
Jenkyns  observed,  there  would  have  been  nothing  for 
dessert  in  summer-time.  As  it  was,  we  felt  very 
genteel  with  our  two  glasses  apiece,  and  a  dish  of  goose- 
berries at  the  top,  of  currants  and  biscuits  at  the  sides, 
and  two  decanters  at  the  bottom.  When  oranges 
came  in,  a  curious  proceeding  was  gone  through.  Miss 
Jenkyns  did  not  like  to  cut  the  fruit ;  for,  as  she  ob- 
served, the  juice  all  ran  out  nobody  knew  where ;  suck- 
ing (only  I  think  she  used  some  more  recondite  word) 


48  CRANFORD 

was  in  fact  the  only  way  of  enjoying  oranges  ;  but  then 
there  was  the  unpleasant  association  with  a  ceremony 
frequently  gone  through  by  little  babies  ;  and  so,  after 
dessert,  in  orange  season,  Miss  Jenkyns  and  Miss 
Matty  used  to  rise  up,  possess  themselves  each  of  an 
orange  in  silence,  and  withdraw  to  the  privacy  of  their 
own  rooms  to  indulge  in  sucking  oranges. 

I  had  once  or  twice  tried,  on  such  occasions,  to 
prevail  on  Miss  Matty  to  stay,  and  had  succeeded  in 
her  sister's  lifetime.  I  held  up  a  screen,  and  did  not 
look,  and,  as  she  said,  she  tried  not  to  make  the  noise 
very  offensive ;  but  now  that  she  was  left  alone,  she 
seemed  quite  horrified  when  I  begged  her  to  remain 
with  me  in  the  warm  dining-parlour,  and  enjoy  her 
orange  as  she  liked  best.  And  so  it  was  in  every- 
thing. Miss  Jenkyns's  rules  were  made  more  stringent 
than  ever,  because  the  framer  of  them  was  gone  where 
there  could  be  no  appeal.  In  all  things  else  Miss 
Matilda  was  meek  and  undecided  to  a  fault.  I  have 
heard  Fanny  turn  her  round  twenty  times  in  a  morning 
about  dinner,  just  as  the  little  hussy  chose  ;  and  I  some- 
times fancied  she  worked  on  Miss  Matilda's  weakness 
in  order  to  bewilder  her,  and  to  make  her  feel  more  in 
the  power  of  her  clever  servant.  I  determined  that 
I  would  not  leave  her  till  I  had  seen  what  sort  of  a 
person  Martha  was  ;  and,  if  I  found  her  trustworthy,  I 
would  tell  her  not  to  trouble  her  mistress  with  every 
little  decision. 

Martha  was  blunt  and  plain-spoken  to  a  fault ; 
otherwise  she  was  a  brisk,  well-meaning,  but  very 
ignorant  girl.  She  had  not  been  with  us  a  week 
before  Miss  Matilda  and  I  were  astounded  one  morn- 


A    LOVE   AFFAIR    OF  LONG  AGO  49 

ing  by  the  receipt  of  a  letter  from  a  cousin  of  hers, 
who  had  been  twenty  or  thirty  years  in  India,  and 
who  had  lately,  as  we  had  seen  by  the  "  Army  List," 
returned  to  England,  bringing  with  him  an  invalid 
wife  who  had  never  been  introduced  to  her  English 
relations.  Major  Jenkyns  wrote  to  propose  that  he 
and  his  wife  should  spend  a  night  at  Cranford,  on  his 
way  to  Scotland  —  at  the  inn,  if  it  did  not  suit  Miss 
Matilda  to  receive  them  into  her  house ;  in  which 
case  they  should  hope  to  be  with  her  as  much  as  pos- 
sible during  the  day.  Of  course,  it  must  suit  her,  as 
she  said;  for  all  Cranford  knew  that  she  had  her 
sister's  bedroom  at  liberty ;  but  I  am  sure  she  wished 
the  major  had  stopped  in  India  and  forgotten  his 
cousins  out  and  out. 

"  Oh  !  how  must  I  manage  ?  "  asked  she  helplessly. 
"If  Deborah  had  been  alive  she  would  have  known 
what  to  do  with  a  gentleman-visitor.  Must  I  put 
razors  in  his  dressing-room?  Dear  !  dear  !  and  Tve 
got  none.  Deborah  would  have  had  them.  And 
slippers,  and  coat-brushes  ? "  I  suggested  that  prob- 
ably he  would  bring  all  these  things  with  him.  "  And 
after  dinner,  how  am  I  to  know  when  to  get  up  and 
leave  him  to  his  wine  ?  Deborah  would  have  done  it 
so  well ;  she  would  have  been  quite  in  her  element. 
Will  he  want  coffee,  do  you  think?  "  I  undertook  the 
management  of  the  coffee,  and  told  her  I  would 
instruct  Martha  in  the  art  of  waiting  —  in  which,  it 
must  be  owned,  she  was  terribly  deficient  —  and  that 
I  had  no  doubt  Major  and  Mrs.  Jenkyns  would  under- 
stand the  quiet  mode  in  which  a  lady  lived  by  herself 
in  a  country  town.     But  she  was  sadly  fluttered.     I 


50  CRANFORD 

made  her  empty  her  decanters  and  bring  up  two 
fresh  bottles  of  wine.  I  wished  I  could  have  pre- 
vented her  from  being  present  at  ray  instructions  to 
Martha,  for  she  frequently  cut  in  with  some  fresh 
direction,  muddling  the  poor  girl's  mind,  as  she  stood 
open-mouthed,  listening  to  us  both. 

"  Hand  the  vegetables  round,"  said  I  (foolishly,  I 
see  now  —  for  it  was  aiming  at  more  than  we  could 
accomplish  with  quietness  and  simplicity)  ;  and  then, 
seeing  her  look  bewildered,  I  added,  "  Take  the  vege- 
tables round  to  people,  and  let  them  help  them- 
selves." 

"  And  mind  you  go  first  to  the  ladies,"  put  in  Miss 
Matilda.  "  Always  go  to  the  ladies  before  gentlemen 
when  you  are  waiting." 

"  I'll  do  it  as  you  tell  me,  ma'am,"  said  Martha ; 
"  bui  I  like  lads  best." 

We  felt  very  uncomfortable  and  shocked  at  this 
speech  of  Martha's,  yet  I  don't  think  she  meant  any 
harm ;  and,  on  the  whole,  she  attended  very  well  to 
our  directions,  except  that  she  "  nudged  "  the  major 
when  he  did  not  help  himself  as  soon  as  she  expected 
to  the  potatoes,  while  she  was  handing  them  round. 

The  major  and  his  wife  were  quiet,  unpretending 
people  enough  when  they  did  come ;  languid,  as  all 
East  Indians  are,  I  suppose.  We  were  rather  dis- 
mayed at  their  bringing  two  servants  with  them,  a 
Hindoo  body-servant  for  the  major,  and  a  steady 
elderly  maid  for  his  wife;  but  they  slept  at  the  inn, 
and  took  off  a  good  deal  of  the  responsibility  by 
attending  carefully  to  their  master's  and  mistress's 
comfort.     Martha,  to  be  sure,  had  never  ended  her 


A   LOVE  AFFAIR    OF  LONG  AGO 


51 


staring  at  the  East  Indian's  white  turban  and  brown 
complexion,  and  I  saw  that  Miss  Matilda  shrunk 
away  from  him  a  little  as  he  waited  at  dinner. 
Indeed,  she  asked  me,  when  they  were  gone,  if  he  did 
not  remind  me  of  Blue  Beard?  On  the  whole,  the 
visit  was  most  satisfactory,  and  is  a  subject  of  conver- 


"  She  '  nudged '  the  major'' 


sation  even  now  with  Miss  Matilda;  at  the  time  it 
greatly  excited  Cranford,  and  even  stirred  up  the 
apathetic  and  Honourable  Mrs.  Jamieson  to  some 
expression  of  interest,  when  I  went  to  call  and  thank 
her  for  the  kind  answers  she  had  vouchsafed  to  Miss 
Matilda's  inquiries  as  to  the  arrangement  of  a  gentle- 
man's dressing-room  —  answers  which,  I  must  con- 


52  CRANFORD 

fess,  she  had  given  in  the  wearied  manner  of  the 
Scandinavian  prophetess  — 

Leave  me,  leave  me  to  repose. 

And  now  I  come  to  the  love  affair. 

It  seems  that  Miss  Pole  had  a  cousin,  once  or  twice 
removed,  who  had  offered  to  Miss  Matty  long  ago. 
Now  this  cousin  lived  four  or  five  miles  from  Cran- 
ford  on  his  own  estate ;  but  his  property  was  not 
large  enough  to  entitle  him  to  rank  higher  than  a  yeo- 
man ;  or  rather,  with  something  of  the  "  pride  which 
apes  humility,"  he  had  refused  to  push  himself  on,  as 
so  many  of  his  class  had  done,  into  the  ranks  of  the 
squires.  He  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  called 
Thomas  Holbrook,  Esq. ;  he  even  sent  back  letters 
with  tlus  address,  telling  the  postmistress  at  Cranford 
that  his  name  was  Mr.  Thomas  Holbrook,  yeoman. 
He  rejected  all  domestic  innovations  ;  he  would  have 
the  house-door  stand  open  in  summer  and  shut  in 
winter,  without  knocker  or  bell  to  summon  a  ser\-ant. 
The  closed  fist  or  the  knob  of  the  stick  did  this  office 
for  him  if  he  found  the  door  locked.  He  despised 
every  refinement  which  had  not  its  root  deep  down  in 
humanity.  If  people  were  hot  ill,  he  saw  no  necessity 
for  moderating  his  voice.  He  spoke  the  dialect  of 
the  country  in  perfection,  and  constantly  used  it  in 
conversation ;  although  Miss  Pole  (who  gave  me 
these  particulars)  added,  that  he  read  aloud  more 
beautifully  and  with  more  feeling  than  any  one  she 
had  ever  heard,  except  the  late  rector. 

"  And  how  came  Miss  Matilda  not  to  marry  him  ?" 
asked  I. 


A  LOVE  AFFAIR    OF  LONG  AGO  S3 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  She  was  willing  enough,  I 
think ;  but  you  know  cousin  Thomas  would  not  have 
been  enough  of  a  gentleman  for  the  rector  and  Miss 
Jenkyns." 

"Well !  but  they  were  not  to  marry  him,"  said  I 
impatiently. 

"  No ;  but  they  did  not  like  Miss  Matty  to  marry 
below  her  rank.  You  know  she  was  the  rector's 
daughter,  and  somehow  they  are  related  to  Sir  Peter 
Arley  :  Miss  Jenkyns  thought  a  deal  of  that." 

"Poor  Miss  Matty  !"  said  I. 

"  Nay,  now,  I  don't  know  anything  more  than  that 
he  offered  and  was  refused.  Miss  Matty  might  not 
like  him  —  and  Miss  Jenkyns  might  never  have  said 
a  word  —  it  is  only  a  guess  of  mine." 

"  Has  she  never  seen  him  since  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  No,  I  think  not.  You  see  Woodley,  cousin 
Thomas's  house,  lies  half-way  between  Cranford  and 
Misselton ;  and  I  know  he  made  Misselton  his  mar- 
ket-town very  soon  after  he  had  offered  to  Miss  Matty ; 
and  I  don't  think  he  has  been  into  Cranford  above 
once  or  twice  since —  once,  when  I  was  walking  with 
Miss  Matty,  in  High  Street,  and  suddenly  she  darted 
from  me,  and  went  up  Shire  Lane.  A  few  minutes 
after  I  was  startled  by  meeting  cousin  Thomas." 

"  How  old  is  he  ?  "  I  asked,  after  a  pause  of  castle- 
building. 

"  He  must  be  about  seventy,  I  think,  my  dear," 
said  Miss  Pole,  blowing  up  my  castle,  as  if  by  gun- 
powder, into  small  fragments. 

Very  soon  after  —  at  least  during  my  long  visit  to 
Miss  Matilda  —  I  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  Mr. 


54  CRANFORD 

Holbrook ;  seeing,  too,  his  first  encounter  with  his 
former  love,  after  thirty  or  forty  years'  separation.  I 
was  lielping  to  decide  whether  any  of  the  new  assort- 
ment of  coloured  silks  which  they  had  just  received  at 
the  shop  would  do  to  match  a  gray  and  black  mous- 
seline-de-laine  that  wanted  a  new  breadth,  when  a 
tall,  thin,  Don  Quixote-looking  old  man  came  into  the 
shop  for  some  woollen  gloves.  I  had  never  seen  the 
person  (who  was  rather  striking)  before,  and  I 
watched  him  rather  attentively  while  Miss  Matty  lis- 
tened to  the  shopman.  The  stranger  wore  a  blue 
coat  with  brass  buttons,  drab  breeches,  and  gaiters, 
and  drummed  with  his  fingers  on  the  counter  until  he 
was  attended  to.  When  he  answered  the  shop-boy's 
question,  "  What  can  I  have  the  pleasure  of  showing 
you  to-day,  sir  ? "  I  saw  Miss  Matilda  start,  and  then 
suddenly  sit  down ;  and  instantly  I  guessed  who  it 
was.  She  had  made  some  inquiry  which  had  to  be 
carried  round  to  the  other  shopman. 

"Miss  Jenkyns  wants  the  black  sarsenet  two-and 
twopence  the  yard ;  "  and  Mr.  Holbrook  had  cauglit 
the  name,  and  was  across  the  shop  in  two  strides. 

"Matty  —  Miss  Matilda  —  Miss  Jenkyns!  God 
bless  my  soul  !  I  should  not  have  known  you.  How 
are  you  ?  how  are  you  ? "  He  kept  shaking  her 
hand  in  a  way  which  proved  the  warmth  of  his 
friendship ;  but  he  repeated  so  often,  as  if  to  himself, 
"  I  should  not  have  known  you !  "  that  any  sentimental 
romance  which  I  might  be  inclined  to  build  was  quite 
done  away  with  by  his  manner. 

However,  he  kept  talking  to  us  all  the  time  we  were 
in  the  shop  ;  and  then  waving  the  shopman  with  the 


A   LOVE  AFFAIR    OF  LONG  AGO 


55 


unpurchased  gloves  on  one  side,  with  "  Another 
time,  sir  I  another  time  ! "  he  walked  home  with  us. 
I  am  happy  to  say  my  client,  Miss  Matilda,  also  left 
the  shop  in  an  equally  bewildered  state,  not  having 


'  HcTM  are  you  f  how  are  you  f 


purchased  either  green  or  red  silk.  Mr.  Holbrook 
was  evidently  full  with  honest  loud-spoken  joy  at 
meeting  his  old  love  again ;  he  touched  on  the 
changes  that  had  taken  place ;  he  even  spoke  of  Miss 
Jenkyns    as   "  Your    poor    sister !     Well,   well  !   we 


56  CRANFORD 

have  all  our  faults ; "  and  bade  us  good-bye  with 
many  a  hope  that  he  should  soon  see  Miss  Matty 
again.  She  went  straight  to  her  room,  and  never 
came  back  until  our  early  tea-time,  when  I  thought 
she  looked  as  if  she  had  been  crying. 


Oxoptr 


rt^ICk" 


j/J'Vfi^   to    ^r^    OQC  BqcRc/oY. 


A  FEW  days  after,  a  note  came  from  Mr.  Holbrook, 
asking  us  —  impartially  asking  both  of  us  —  in  a  for- 
mal, old-fashioned  style,  to  spend  a  day  at  his  house 
—  a  long  June  day  —  for  it  was  June  now.  He 
named  that  he  had  also  invited  his  cousin,  Miss  Pole ; 
so  that  we  might  join  in  a  fly,  which  could  be  put  up 
at  his  house.  ^ 

I  expected  Miss  Matty  to  jump  at  this  invitation ; 
but,  no  !  Miss  Pole  and  I  had  the  greatest  difficulty 
in  persuading  her  to  go.  She  thought  it  was  im- 
proper ;  and  was  even  half  annoyed  when  we  utterly 
ignored  the  idea  of  any  impropriety  in  her  going  with 
two  other  ladies  to  see  her  old  lover.  Then  came  a 
more  serious  difficulty.  She  did  not  think  Deborah 
would  have  liked  her  to  go.  This  took  us  half  a  day's 
good  hard  talking  to  get  over ;  but,  at  the  first  sen- 
tence of  relenting,  I  seized  the  opportunity,  and  wrote 
and  despatched  an  acceptance  in  her  name  —  fixing 
day  and  hour,  that  all  might  be  decided  and  done  with. 

57 


58  CRANFORD 

The  next  morning  she  asked  me  if  I  would  go 
down  to  the  shop  with  her ;  and  there,  after  much 
hesitation,  we  chose  out  three  caps  to  be  sent  home 
and  tried  on,  that  the  most  becoming  might  be  se- 
lected to  take  with  us  on  Thursday. 

She  was  in  a  state  of  silent  agitation  all  the  way  to 
Woodley.  She  had  evidently  never  been  there  be- 
fore ;  and,  although  she  little  dreamt  1  knew  anything 
of  her  early  story,  I  could  perceive  she  was  in  a 
tremor  at  the  thought  of  seeing  the  place  which  might 
have  been  her  home,  and  round  which  it  is  probable 
that  many  of  her  innocent  girlish  imaginations  had 
clustered.  It  was  a  long  drive  there,  through  paved 
jolting  lanes.  Miss  Matilda  sat  bolt  upriglit,  and 
looked  wistfully  out  of  the  windows  as  we  drew  near 
the  end  of  our  journey.  The  aspect  of  the  country 
was  quiet  and  pastoral.  Woodley  stood  among 
fields  ;  and  there  was  an  old-fashioned  garden  where 
roses  and  currant-bushes  touched  each  other,  and 
where  the  feathery  asparagus  formed  a  pretty  back- 
ground to  the  pinks  and  gilly-flowers ;  there  was  no 
drive  up  to  the  door.  We  got  out  at  a  little  gate,  and 
walked  up  a  straight  box-edged  path. 

"  My  cousin  might  make  a  drive,  I  think,"  said  Miss 
Pole,  who  was  afraid  of  ear-ache,  and  had  only  her 
cap  on. 

"  I  think  it  is  very  pretty,"  said  Miss  Matty,  with  a 
soft  plaintiveness  in  her  voice,  and  almost  in  a  whis- 
per, for  just  then  Mr.  Holbrook  appeared  at  the  door, 
rubbing  his  hands  in  very  effervescence  of  hospitality. 
He  looked  more  like  my  idea  of  Don  Quixote  than 
ever,  and  yet  the  likeness  was  only  external.     His 


A    VISIT  TO  AN  OID  BACHELOR         59 

respectable  housekeeper  stood  modestly  at  the  door 
to  bid  us  welcome ;  and,  while  she  led  the  elder 
ladies  upstairs  to  a  bedroom,  I  begged  to  look  about 
the  garden.  My  request  evidently  pleased  the  old 
gentleman,  who  took  me  all  round  the  place,  and 
showed  me  his  six  and  twenty  cows,  named  after  the 
different  letters  of  the  alphabet.  As  we  went  along, 
he  surprised  me  occasionally  by  repeating  apt  and 
beautiful  quotations  from  the  poets,  ranging  easily 
from  Shakespeare  and  George  Herbert  to  those  of 
our  own  day.  He  did  this  as  naturally  as  if  he  were 
thinking  aloud,  and  their  true  and  beautiful  words 
were  the  best  expression  he  could  find  for  what  he 
was  thinking  or  feeling.  To  be  sure  he  called  Byron 
"my  Lord  Byrron,"  and  pronounced  the  name  of 
Goethe  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  English  sound 
of  the  letters  —  "  As  Goethe  says,  '  Ye  ever-verdant 
palaces,' "  etc.  Altogether,  I  never  met  with  a  man, 
before  or  since,  who  had  spent  so  long  a  life  in  a 
secluded  and  not  impressive  country,  with  ever-in- 
creasing delight  in  the  daily  and  yearly  change  of 
season  and  beauty. 

When  he  and  I  went  in,  we  found  that  dinner  was 
nearly  ready  in  the  kitchen  —  for  so  I  suppose  the 
room  ought  to  be  called,  as  there  were  oak  dressers 
and  cupboards  all  round,  all  over  by  the  side  of  the 
fireplace,  and  only  a  small  Turkey  carpet  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  flag-floor.  The  room  might  have  been 
easily  made  into  a  handsome  dark  oak  dining-parlour 
by  removing  the  oven  and  a  few  other  appurtenances 
of  a  kitchen,  which  were  evidently  never  used,  the 
real   cooking-place   being  at   some   distance.      The 


60  CRANFORD 

room  in  which  we  were  expected  to  sit  was  a  stiffly- 
furnished,  ugly  apartment ;  but  that  in  which  we  did 
sit  was  what  Mr.  Holbrook  called  the  counting-house, 
when  he  paid  his  labourers  their  weekly  wages  at  a 
great  desk  near  the  door.  The  rest  of  the  pretty 
sitting-room  —  looking  into  the  orchard,  and  all  cov- 
ered over  with  dancing  tree-shadows  —  was  filled 
with  books.  They  lay  on  the  ground,  they  covered 
the  walls,  they  strewed  the  table.  'He  was  evidently 
half-ashamed  and  half-proud  of  his  extravagance  in 
this  respect.  They  were  of  all  kinds  —  poetry  and 
wild  weird  tales  prevailing.  He  evidently  chose  his 
books  in  accordance  with  his  own  tastes,  not  because 
such  and  such  were  classical  or  established  favour- 
ites. 

"Ah ! "  he  said,  "  we  farmers  ought  not  to  have  much 
time  for  reading ;  yet  somehow  one  can''t  help  it." 

"  What  a  pretty  room! "  said  Miss  Matty,  sotto  voce. 
■  "What  a  pleasant  place!"  said  I  aloud,  almost 
simultaneously. 

"Nay!  if  you  like  it,"  replied  he;  "but  can  you  sit 
on  these  great  black-leather  three-cornered  chairs? 
I  like  it  better  than  the  best  parlour ;  but  I  thought 
ladies  would  take  that  for  the  smarter  place." 

It  was  the  smarter  place,  but,  like  most  smart 
things,  not  at  all  pretty,  or  pleasant,  or  home-like ; 
so,  while  we  were  at  dinner,  the  ser\-ant-girl  dusted 
and  scrubbed  the  counting-house  chairs,  and  we  sat 
there  all  the  rest  of  the  day. 

We  had  pudding  before  meat ;  and  I  thought  Mr. 
Holbrook  was  going  to  make  some  apology  for  his 
old-fashioned  ways,  for  he  began  — 


A   VISIT   TO  AN  OLD  BACHELOR         61 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  like  new-fangled  ways." 

"Oh,  not  at  all!"  said  Miss  Matty. 

"  No  more  do  I,"  said  he.  "  My  housekeeper  will 
have  these  in  her  new  fashion ;  or  else  I  tell  her  that, 
when  1  was  a  young  man,  we  used  to  keep  strictly  to 
my  father's  rule, '  No  broth,  no  ball ;  no  ball,  no  beef; ' 
and  always  began  dinner  with  broth.  Then  we  had 
suet  puddings,  boiled  in  the  broth  with  the  beef;  and 
then  the  meat  itself.  If  wp  did  not  sup  our  broth,  we 
had  no  ball,  which  we  liked  a  deal  better;  and  the 
beef  came  last  of  all,  and  only  those  had  it  who  had 
done  justice  to  the  broth  and  the  ball.  Now  folks 
begin  with  sweet  things,  and  turn  their  dinners  topsy- 
turvy." 

When  the  ducks  and  green  peas  came,  we  looked 
at  each  other  in  dismay ;  we  had  only  two-pronged 
black-handled  forks.  It  is  true  the  steel  was  as  bright 
as  silver ;  but  what  were^e  to  do  ?  Miss  Matty  picked 
up  her  peas,  one  by  one,  on  the  point  of  the  prongs, 
much  as  Amind  ate  her  grains  of  rice  after  her  previous 
feast  with  the  Ghoul.  Miss  Pole  sighed  over  her 
delicate  young  peas  as  she  left  them  on  one  side  of 
her  plate  untasted,  for  they  would  drop  between  the 
prongs.  I  looljed  at  my  host:  the  peas  were  going 
wholesale  into  his  capacious  mouth,  shovelled  up  by 
his  large  round-ended  knife.  I  saw,  I  imitated,  I  sur- 
vived !  My  friends,  in  spite  of  my  precedent,  could 
not  muster  up  courage  enough  to  do  an  ungenteel 
thing ;  and,  if  Mr.  Holbrook  had  not  been  so  heartily 
hungry,  he  would  probably  have  seen  that  the  good 
peas  went  away  almost  untouched. 

After  dinner  a  clay  pipe  was  brought  in,  and  a  spit- 


62 


CRANFORD 


toon  ;  and,  asking  us  to  retire  to  another  room,  where 
he  would  soon  join  us,  if  we  disliked  tobacco-smoke, 
he  presented  his  pipe  to  Miss  Matty,  and  requested 


Requested  her  to  fill  the  bowl." 


her  to  fill  the  bowl.  This  was  a  compliment  to  a  lady 
in  his  youth ;  but  it  was  rather  inappropriate  to  pro- 
pose it  as  an  honour  to  Miss  Matty,  who  had  been 
trained  by  her  sister  to  hold  smoking  of  every  kind  in 
utter  abhorrence.     But  if  it  was  a  shock  to  her  refine- 


A    VISIT    TO  AN  OLD  BACHELOR         63 

ment,  it  was  also  a  gratification  to  her  feelings  to  be 
thus  selected  ;  so  she  daintily  stuffed  the  strong  tobacco 
into  the  pipe,  and  then  we  withdrew. 

"It  is  very  pleasant  dining  with  a  bachelor,"  said 
Miss  Matty  softly,  as  we  settled  ourselves  in  the 
counting-house.  "  I  only  hope  it  is  not  improper ; 
so  many  pleasant  things  are!" 

'•What  a  number  of  books  he  has!"  said  Miss 
Pole,  looking  round  the  room.  "And  how  dusty 
they  are  ! " 

'•  I  think  it  must  be  like  one  of  the  great  Dr.  John- 
son's rooms,"  said  Miss  Matty.  "What  a  superior 
man  your  cousin  must  be!  " 

"Yes!"  said  Miss  Pole,  " he's  a  great  leader;  but 
I  am  afraid  he  has  got  into  very  uncouth  habits  with 
living  alone." 

"Oh!  uncouth  is  too  hard  a  word.  I  should  call 
him  eccentric ;  very  clever^Jeople  always  are ! "  replied 
Miss  Matty. 

When  Mr.  Holbrook  returned,  he  proposed  a  walk 
in  the  fields ;  but  the  two  elder  ladies  were  afraid  of 
damp  and  dirt,  and  had  only  very  unbecoming  calashes 
to  put  on  over  their  caps  ;  so  they  declined,  and  I  was 
again  his  companion  in  a  turn  which  he  said  he  was 
obliged  to  take  to  see  after  his  men.  He  strode  along, 
either  wholly  forgetting  my  existence,  or  soothed  into 
silence  by  his  pipe  —  and  yet  it  was  not  silence  exactly. 
He  walked  before  me,  with  a  stooping  gait,  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him ;  and,  as  some  tree  or  cloud,  or 
glimpse  of  distant  upland  pastures,  struck  him,  he 
quoted  poetry  to  himself,  saying  it  out  loud  in  a  grand 
sonorous  voice,  with  just  the  emphasis  that  true  feeling 


64  CRANFORD 

and  appreciation  give.     We  came  upon  an  old  cedar- 
tree,  wliich  stood  at  one  end  of  the  house  — 

The  cedar  spreads  his  dark-green  layers  of  shade. 

"  Capital  term  — '  laiyers ! '  Wonderful  man ! "  I  did 
not  know  whether  he  was  speaking  to  me  or  not ;  but 
I  put  in  an  assenting  "wonderful,"  although  I  knew 
nothing  about  it,  just  because  I  was  tired  of  being 
forgotten,  and  of  being  consequently  silent. 

He  turned  sharp  round.  "Ay!  you  may  say  'won- 
derful.' Why,  when  I  saw  the  review  of  his  poems 
in  Blackwood,  I  set  off  within  an  hour,  and  walked 
seven  miles  to  Misselton  (for  the  horses  were  not  in 
the  way)  and  ordered  them.  Now,  what  colour  are 
ash-buds  in  March  ? " 

Is  the  man  going  mad?  thought  I.  He  is  very  like 
Don  Quixote. 

"What  colour  are  they,  I  say?"  repeated  he  vehe- 
mently. 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  I,  with  the 
meekness  of  ignorance. 

"I  knew  you  didn't.  No  more  did  I  —  an  old  fool 
that  I  am!  —  till  this  young  man  comes  and  tells  me. 
Black  as  ash-buds  in  March.  And  I've  lived  all  my 
life  in  the  country ;  more  shame  for  me  not  to  know. 
Black :  they  are  jet-black,  madam."  And  he  went 
off  again,  swinging  along  to  the  music  of  some  rhyme 
he  had  got  hold  of. 

When  we  came  back,  nothing  would  serve  him  but 
he  must  read  us  the  poems  he  had  been  speaking  of; 
and  Miss  Pole  encouraged  him  in  his  proposal,  I 
thought,  because  she  wished  me  to  hear  his  beautiful 


A    VISIT    TO   AN'   OLD   BACHELOR 


65 


reading,  of  which  she  had  boasted  ;  but  she  aftenvards 
said  it  was  because  she  had  got  to  a  difficult  part  of 
her  crochet,  and  wanted  to  count  her  stitches  without 
having  to  talk.  Whatever  he  had  proposed  would 
have  been  right  to  Miss  Matty;  although  she  did  fall 
sound  asleep  within  five  minutes  after  he  had  begun  a 


"  He  had  begun  a  long  poem'' 


long  poem  called  "  Locksley  Hall,"  and  had  a  com- 
fortable nap,  unobser\ed,  till  he  ended ;  when  the 
cessation  of  his  voice  wakened  her  up,  and  she  said, 
feeling  that  something  was  expected,  and  that  Miss 
Pole  was  counting  — 

"  What  a  pretty  book !  " 

"Pretty,  madam!  it's  beautiful!     Pretty,  indeed!" 


66  CRANFOKD 

"  Oh  yes!  I  meant  beautiful !  "  said  she,  fluttered  at 
his  disapproval  of  her  word.  "  It  is  so  like  that  beauti- 
ful poem  of  Dr.  Johnson's  my  sister  used  to  read  —  I 
forget  the  name  of  it ;  what  was  it,  my  dear  ?  "  turn- 
ing to  me. 

"  Which  do  you  mean,  madam  ?  What  was  it 
about  ? " 

"  I  don't  remember  what  it  was  about,  and  I've 
quite  forgotten  what  the  name  of  it  was ;  but  it  was 
written  by  Dr.  Johnson,  and  was  very  beautiful, 
and  very  like  what  Mr.  Holbrook  has  just  been 
reading." 

"  I  don't  remember  it,"  said  he  reflectively.  "  But 
I  don't  know  Dr.  Johnson's  poems  well.  I  must  read 
them." 

As  we  were  getting  into  the  fly  to  return,  I  heard 
Mr.  Holbrook  say  he  should  call  on  the  ladies  soon, 
and  inquire  how  they  got  home ;  and  this  evidently 
pleased  and  fluttered  Miss  Matty  at  the  time  he  said 
it ;  but  after  we  had  lost  sight  of  the  old  house  among 
the  trees  her  sentiments  towards  the  master  of  it  were 
gradually  absorbed  into  a  distressing  wonder  as  to 
whether  Martha  had  broken  her  word,  and  seized  on 
the  opportunity  of  her  mistress's  absence  to  have  a 
"  follower."  Martha  looked  good,  and  steady,  and  com- 
posed enough,  as  she  came  to  help  us  out ;  she  was 
always  careful  of  Miss  Matty,  and  to-night  she  made 
use  of  this  unlucky  speech  — 

"Eh!  dear  ma'am,  to  think  of  your  going  out 
in  an  evening  in  such  a  thin  shawl!  It's  no  better 
than  muslin.  At  your  age,  ma'am,  you  should  be 
careful." 


A    VISIT    TO  AN  OLD   BACHELOR         67 

''My  age!"  said  Miss  Matty,  almost  speaking 
crossly,  for  her,  for  she  was  usually  gentle  —  "  my 
age!  Why,  how  old  do  you  think  I  am,  that  you 
talk  about  my  age  ? " 

"  Well,  ma'am,  I  should  say  you  were  not  far  short 
of  sixty  :  but  folks'  looks  is  often  against  them  —  and 
Tm  sure  I  meant  no  harm." 

"  Martha,  I'm  not  yet  fifty-two!  "  said  Miss  Matty, 
with  grave  emphasis  ;  for  probably  the  remembrance 
of  her  youth  had  come  very  vividly  before  her  this 
day,  and  she  was  annoyed  at  finding  that  golden  time 
so  far  away  in  the  past. 

But  she  never  spoke  of  any  former  and  more  in- 
timate acquaintance  with  Mr.  Holbrook.  She  had 
probably  met  with  so  little  sympathy  in  her  early  love 
that  she  had  shut  it  up  close  m  her  heart ;  and  it  was 
only  by  a  sort  of  watching,  which  I  could  hardly  avoid 
since  Miss  Pole's  confidence,  that  I  saw  how  faithful 
her  poor  heart  had  been  in  its  sorrow  and  its  silence. 

She  gave  me  some  good  reason  for  wearing  her 
best  cap  every  day,  and  sat  near  the  window,  in  spite 
of  her  rheumatism,  in  order  to  see,  without  being  seen, 
down  into  the  street. 

He  came.  He  put  his  open  palms  upon  his  knees, 
which  were  far  apart,  as  he  sat  with  his  head  bent 
down,  whistling,  after  we  had  replied  to  his  inquiries 
about  our  safe  return.     Suddenly  he  jumped  up  — 

"  Well, -madam!  have  you  any  commands  for  Paris? 
I  am  going  there  in  a  week  or  two." 

"To  Paris!  "  we  both  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  madam!  I've  never  been  there,  and  always 
had  a  wish  to  go ;   and  I  think  if  I  don't  go  soon,  I 


68  CRANFORD 

mayn't  go  at  all ;  so  as  soon  as  the  hay  is  got  in 
I  shall  go,  before  harvest  time." 

We  were  so  much  astonished  that  we  had  no  com- 
missions. 

Just  as  he  was  going  out  of  the  room,  he  turned 
back,  with  his  favourite  exclamation  — 

"  God  bless  my  soul,  madam !  but  I  nearly  forgot 
half  my  errand.  Here  are  the  poems  for  you  you  ad- 
mired so  much  the  other  evening  at  my  house."  He 
tugged  away  at  a  parcel  in  his  coat-pocket.  "  Good- 
bye, miss,"  said  he ;  "  good-bye,  Matty !  take  care  of 
yourself."  And  he  was  gone.  But  he  had  given  her 
a  book,  and  he  had  called  her  Matty,  just  as  he  used 
to  do  thirty  years  ago. 

"  I  wish  he  would  not  go  to  Paris,"  said  Miss  Ma- 
tilda anxiously.  "  I  don't  believe  frogs  will  agree 
with  him  ;  he  used  to  have  to  be  very  careful  what  he 
ate,  which  was  curious  in  so  strong-looking  a  young 
man." 

Soon  after  this  I  took  my  leave,  giving  many  an 
injunction  to  Martha  to  look  after  her  mistress,  and  to 
let  me  know  if  she  thought  that  Miss  Matilda  was  not 
so  well ;  in  which  case  I  would  volunteer  a  visit  to  my 
old  friend,  without  noticing  Martha's  intelligence  to 
her. 

Accordingly  I  received  a  line  or  two  from  Martha 
every  now  and  then  ;  and,  about  November,  I  had  a 
note  to  say  her  mistress  was  "  very  low  and  sadly  off 
her  food  " ;  and  the  account  made  me  so  uneasy  that, 
although  Martha  did  not  decidedly  summon  me,  I 
packed  up  my  things  and  went. 

I  received  a  warm  welcome,  in  spite  of  the  little 


A    VISIT   TO  AN  OLD   BACHELOR         69 


■  Here  are  the  poems  fnr  you." 


flurry  produced  by  my  impromptu  visit,  for  I  had  only 
been  able  to  give  a  day's  notice.  Miss  Matilda 
looked  miserably  ill ;  and  I  prepared  to  comfort  and 
cosset  her. 


70  CRANFORD 

I  went  down  to  have  a  private  talk  with  Martha. 

"  How  long  has  your  mistress  been  so  poorly?"  I 
asked,  as  I  stood  by  the  kitchen  fire. 

"  Well,  I  think  it's  better  than  a  fortnight ;  it  is,  I 
know ;  it  was  one  Tuesday,  after  Miss  Pole  had  been, 
that  she  went  into  this  moping  way.  I  thought  she 
was  tired,  and  it  would  go  off  with  a  night's  rest ;  but 
no !  she  has  gone  on  and  on  ever  since,  till  I  thought 
it  my  duty  to  write  to  you,  ma'am." 

"  You  did  quite  right,  Martha.  It  is  a  comfort  to 
think  she  has  so  faithful  a  servant  about  her.  And  I 
hope  you  find  your  place  comfortable  ?  " 

"  Well,  ma'am,  missus  is  very  kind,  and  there's 
plenty  to  eat  and  drink,  and  no  more  work  but  what 
I  can  do  easily,  —  but "  Martha  hesitated. 

"But  what,  Martha?" 

"Why,  it  seems  so  hard  of  missus  not  to  let  me 
have  any  followers  ;  there's  such  lots  of  young  fellows 
in  the  town  ;  and  many  a  one  has  as  much  as  offered 
to  keep  company  with  me ;  and  I  may  never  be  in 
such  a  likely  place  again,  and  it's  like  wasting  an  op- 
portunity. Many  a  girl  as  I  know  would  have  "em 
unbeknownst  to  missus ;  but  I've  given  my  word,  and 
I'll  stick  to  it ;  or  else  this  is  just  the  house  for  mis- 
sus never  to  be  the  wiser  if  they  did  come :  and  it's 
such  a  capable  kitchen  —  there's  such  good  dark  cor- 
ners in  it  —  I'd  be  bound  to  hide  any  one.  I  counted 
up  last  Sunday  night  —  for  I'll  not  deny  I  was  crying 
because  I  had  to  shut  the  door  in  Jem  Hearn's  face, 
and  he's  a  steady  young  man,  fit  for  any  girl ;  only  I 
had  given  missus  my  word."  Martha  was  all  but 
crying  again ;  and  I  had  little  comfort  to  give  her,  for 


A    VTSTT   TO   AN  OLD  BACHELOR         71 

I  knew,  from  old  experience,  of  the  horror  with  which 
both  the  Miss  Jenkynses  looked  upon  "  followers  "  ; 
and  in  Miss  Matty's  present  nervous  state  this  dread 
was  not  likely  to  be  lessened. 

I  went  to  see  Miss  Pole  the  next  day,  and  took  her 
completely  by  surprise,  for  she  had  not  been  to  see 
Miss  Matilda  for  two  days. 

'>  And  now  I  must  go  back  with  you,  my  dear,  for  I 
promised  to  let  her  know  how  Thomas  Holbrook 
went  on ;  and,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  his  housekeeper  has 
sent  me  word  to-day  that  he  hasn't  long  to  live. 
Poor  Thomas!  that  journey  to  Paris  was  quite  too 
much  for  him.  His  housekeeper  says  he  has  hardly 
ever  been  round  his  fields  since,  but  just  sits  with  his 
hands  on  his  knees  in  the  counting-house,  not  read- 
ing or  anything,  but  only  sayii^  what  a  wonderful  city 
Paris  was !  Paris  has  much  to  answer  for  if  it's  killed 
my  cousin  Thomas,  for  a  better  man  never  lived." 

"  Does  Miss  Matilda  know  of  his  illness  ? "  asked 
I  —  a  new  light  as  to  the  cause  of  her  indisposition 
dawning  upon  me. 

''  Dear!  to  be  sure,  yes!  Has  not  she  told  you?  I 
let  her  know  a  fortnight  ago,  or  more,  when  first  I 
heard  of  it.  How  odd  she  shouldn't  have  told 
you ! " 

Not  at  all,  I  thought ;  but  I  did  not  say  anything. 
I  felt  almost  guilty  of  having  spied  too  curiously  into 
tluit  tender  heart,  and  I  was  not  going  to  speak  of  its 
secrets  —  hidden,  Miss  Matty  believed,  from  all  the 
world.  I  ushered  Miss  Pole  into  Miss  Matilda's  little 
drawing-room,  and  then  left  them  alone.  But  I  was 
not  surprised   when  Martha   came  to    my   bedroom 


72  CRANFORD 

door,  to  ask  me  to  go  clown  to  dinner  alone,  for  that 
missus  had  one  of  her  bad  headaches.  She  came 
into  the  drawing-room  at  tea-time,  but  it  was  evidently 
an  effort  to  her ;  and,  as  if  to  make  up  for  some  re- 
proachful feeling  against  her  late  sister,  Miss  Jenkyns, 
which  had  been  troubling  her  all  the  afternoon,  and 
for  which  she  now  felt  penitent,  she  kept  telling  me 
how  good  and  how  clever  Deborah  was  in  her  youtji ; 
how  she  used  to  settle  what  gowns  they  were  to  wear 
at  all  the  parties  (faint,  ghostly  ideas  of  grim  parties, 
far  away  in  the  distance,  when  Miss  Matty  and  Miss 
Pole  were  young!) ;  and  how  Deborah  and  her 
mother  had  started  the  benefit  society  for  the  poor, 
and  taught  girls  cooking  and  plain  sewing ;  and  how 
Deborah  had  once  danced  with  a  lord ;  and  how  she 
used  to  visit  at  Sir  Peter  Arley's,  and  try  to  remodel 
the  quiet  rectory  establishment  on  the  plans  of  Arley 
Hall,  where  they  kept  thirty  servants ;  and  how  she 
had  nursed  Miss  Matty  through  a  long,  long  illness,  of 
which  I  had  never  heard  before,  but  which  I  now 
dated  in  my  own  mind  as  following  the  dismissal  of 
the  suit  of  Mr.  Holbrook.  So  we  talked  softly  and 
quietly  of  old  times  through  the  long  November 
evening. 

The  next  day  Miss  Pole  brought  us  word  that  Mr. 
Holbrook  was  dead.  Miss  Matty  heard  the  news  in 
silence  ;  in  fact,  from  the  account  of  the  previous  day, 
it  was  only  what  we  had  to  expect.  Miss  Pole  kept 
calling  upon  us  for  some  expression  of  regret,  by  ask- 
ing if  it  was  not  sad  that  he  was  gone,  and  saying  — 

"  To  think  of  that  pleasant  day  last  June,  when  he 
seemed  so  well !     And  he  might  have  lived  this  dozen 


A   VISIT   TO  AN  OLD  BACHELOR         73 

3'ears  if  he  had  not  gone  to  that  wicked  Paris,  where 
they  are  always  having  revolutions." 

She  paused  for  some  demonstration  on  our  part. 
I  saw  Miss  Matty  could  not  speak,  she  was  trembling 
so  nervously ;  so  I  said  what  I  really  felt :  and  after 
a  call  of  some  duration  —  all  the  time  of  which  I  have 
no  doubt  Miss  Pole  thought  Miss  Matty  received  the 
news  very  calmly —  our  visitor  took  her  leave. 

Miss  Matty  made  a  strong  effort  to  conceal  her  feel- 
ings —  a  concealment  she  practised  even  with  me,  for 
she  has  never  alluded  to  Mr.  Holbrook  again,  al- 
though the  book  he  gave  her  lies  with  her  Bible  on 
the  little  table  by  her  bedside.  She  did  not  think  I 
heard  her  when  she  asked  the  little  milliner  of  Cran- 
ford  to  make  her  caps  somethirtg  like  the  Honourable 
Mrs.  Jamieson's,  or  that  I  noticed  the  reply  — 

"  But  she  wears  widows'  caps,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Oh  ?  I  only  meant  something  in  that  style ;  not 
widows',  of  course,  but  rather  like  Mrs.  Jamieson's." 

This  effort  at  concealment  was  the  beginning  of 
the  tremulous  motion  of  head  and  hands  which  I  have 
seen  ever  since  in  Miss  Matty. 

The  evening  of  the  day  on  which  we  heard  of  Mr. 
Holbrook's  death,  Miss  Matilda  was  very  silent  and 
thoughtful ;  after  prayers  she  called  Martha  back,  and 
then  she  stood,  uncertain  what  to  say. 

"  Martha!  "  she  said  at  last,  "  you  are  young  "  —  and 
then  she  made  so  long  a  pause  that  Martha,  to  remind 
her  of  her  half-finished  sentence,  dropped  a  curtsey, 
and  said  — 

"  Yes,  please,  ma'am  ;  two  and  twenty  last  third  of 
October,  please,  ma'am." 


74  CRANFORD 

"  And  perhaps,  Martha,  you  may  some  time  meet 
with  a  young  man  you  like,  and  who  likes  you.  I  did 
say  you  were  not  to  have  followers ;  but  if  you  meet 
with  such  a  young  man,  and  tell  me,  and  I  find  he  is 
respectable,  I  have  no  objection  to  his  coming  to  see 
you  once  a  week.  God  forbid !"  said  she  in  a  low 
voice,  "  that  I  should  grieve  any  young  hearts."  She 
spoke  as  if  she  were  providing  for  some  distant  con- 
tingency, and  was  rather  startled  when  Martha  made 
her  ready  eager  answer. 

"  Please,  ma'am,  there's  Jem  Hearn,  and  he's  a 
joiner  making  three-and-sixpence  a  day,  and  six  foot 
one  in  his  stocking  feet,  please,  ma'am ;  and  if  you'll 
ask  about  him  to-morrow  morning,  every  one  will 
give  him  a  character  for  steadiness ;  and  he'll  be 
glad  enough  to  come  to-morrow  night,  I'll  be  bound." 

Though  Miss  Matty  was  startled,  she  submitted  to 
Fate  and  Love. 


i^vov*  often  noticed 
that  almost 
every  one  has  his  own 
individual  small  econo- 
mies—  careful  habits  of 
saving  fractions  of  pen- 
nies in  some  one  peculiar 
direction  —  any  disturb- 
ance of  which  annoys 
him  more  than  spend- 
ing shillings  or  pounds  on  some  real  extravagance. 
An  old  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance,  who  took 
the  intelligence  of  the  failure  of  a  Joint-Stock  Bank, 
in  which  some  of  his  money  was  invested,  with  sto- 
ical mildness,  worried  his  family  all  through  a  long 
summer's  day,  because  one  of  them  had  torn  (instead 
of  cutting)  out  the  written  leaves  of  his  now  useless 
bank-book ;  of  course  the  corresponding  pages  at  the 
other  end  came  out  as  well,  and  this  little  unnecessary 
waste  of  paper  (his  private  economy)  chafed  him 
more  than  all  the  loss  of  his  money.  Envelopes 
fretted  his  soul  terribly  when  they  first  came  in ;  the 
only  way  in  which  he  could  reconcile  himself  to  such 
waste  of  his  cherished  article  was  by  patiently  turning 
inside  out  all  that  were  sent  to  him,  and  so  making 
them  serve  again.  Even  now,  though  tamed  by  age, 
I  see  him  casting  wistful  glances  at  his  daughters 

75 


76  CRANFORD 

when  they  send  a  whole  inside  of  a  half-sheet  of  note- 
paper,  with  the  three  lines  of  acceptance  to  an  invita- 
tion, written  on  only  one  of  the  sides.  I  am  not 
above  owning  that  I  hav^  this  human  weakness  my- 
self. String  is  my  foible.  My  pockets  get  full  of 
little  hanks  of  it,  picked  up  and  twisted  together,  ready 
for  uses  that  never  come.  I  am  seriously  annoyed  if 
any  one  cuts  the  string  of  a  parcel  instead  of  patiently 
and  faithfully  undoing  it  fold  by  fold.  How  people 
can  bring  themselves  to  use  india-rubber  rings,  which 
are  a  sort  of  deification  of  string,  as  lightly  as  they  do, 
I  cannot  imagine.  To  me  an  india-rubber  ring  is  a 
precious  treasure.  I  have  one  which  is  not  new  — 
one  that  I  picked  up  off  the  floor  nearly  six  years  ago. 
I  have  really  tried  to  use  it,  but  my  heart  failed  me, 
and  I  could  not  commit  the  extravagance. 

Small  pieces  of  butter  grieve  others.  They  cannot 
attend  to  conversation  because  of  the  annoyance  oc- 
casioned by  the  habit  which  some  people  have  of 
invariably  taking  more  butter  than  they  want.  Have 
you  not  seen  the  anxious  look  (almost  mesmeric) 
which  such  persons  fix  on  the  article?  They  would 
feel  it  a  relief  if  they  might  bury  it  out  of  their  sight 
by  popping  it  into  their  own  mouths  and  swallowing 
it  down ;  and  they  are  really  made  happy  if  the  per- 
son on  whose  plate  it  lies  unused  suddenly  breaks 
off  a  piece  of  toast  (which  he  does  not  want  at  all) 
and  eats  up  his  butter.  They  think  that  this  is  not 
waste. 

Now  Miss  Matty  Jenkyns  was  chary  of  candles. 
We  had  many  devices  to  use  as  few  as  possible.  In 
the  winter  afternoons  she  would  sit  knitting  for  two 


OLD  LETTERS  77 

or  three  hours  —  she  could  do  this  in  the  dark,  or  by 
fire-light  —  and  when  I  asked  if  I  might  not  ring  for 
candles  to  finish  stitching  my  wristbands,  she  told  me 
to  "  keep  blind  man's  holiday."  They  were  usually 
brought  in  with  tea ;  but  we  only  burnt  one  at  a  time. 
As  we  lived  in  constant  preparation  for  a  friend  who 
might  come  in  any  evening  (but  who  never  did),  it 
required  some  contrivance  to  keep  our  two  candles  of 
the  same  length,  ready  to  be  lighted,  and  to  look  as 
if  we  burnt  two  always.  The  candles  took  it  in  turns  ; 
and,  whatever  we  might  be  talking  about  or  doing, 
Miss  Matty's  eyes  were  habitually  fixed  upon  the 
candle,  ready  to  jump  up  and  extinguish  it  and  to 
light  the  other  before  thev  had  become  too  uneven 
in  length  to  be  restored  to  equality  in  the  course  of 
the  evening. 

One  night,  I  remember  this  candle  economy  par- 
ticularly annoyed  me.  I  had  been  very  much  tired  of 
my  compulsory  "  blind  man's  holiday,"  especially  as 
Miss  Matty  had  fallen  asleep,  and  I  did  not  like  to 
stir  the  fire  and  run  the  risk  of  awakening  her ;  so  I 
could  not  even  sit  on  the  rug,  and  scorch  myself  with 
sewing  by  fire-light,  according  to  my  usual  custom. 
1  fancied  Miss  Matty  must  be  dreaming  of  her  early 
life ;  for  she  spoke  one  or  two  words  in  her  uneasy 
sleep  bearing  reference  to  persons  who  were  dead 
long  before.  When  Martha  brought  in  the  lighted 
candle  and  tea,  Miss  Matty  started  into  wakefulness, 
with  a  strange  bewildered  look  around,  as  if  we  w6re 
not  the  people  she  expected  to  see  about  her.  There 
was  a  little  sad  expression  that  shadowed  her  face  as 
she  recognised  me ;  but  immediately  afterwards  she 


78  CRANFORD 

tried  to  give  me  her  usual  smile.  All  through  tea- 
time  her  talk  ran  upon  the  days  of  her  childhood  and 
youth.  Perhaps  this  reminded  her  of  the  desirable- 
ness of  looking  over  all  the  old  family  letters,  and 
destroying  such  as  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  fall 
into  the  hands  of  strangers ;  for  she  had  often  spoken 
of  the  necessity  of  this  task,  but  she  had  always 
shrunk  from  it,  with  a  timid  dread  of  something  pain- 
ful. To-night,  however,  she  rose  up  after  tea  and 
went  for  them  —  in  the  dark  ;  for  she  piqued  herself 
on  the  precise  neatness  of  all  her  chamber  arrange- 
ments, and  used  to  look  uneasily  at  me  when  I  lighted 
a  bed-candle  to  go  to  another  room  for  anything. 
When  she  returned  there  was  a  faint  pleasant  smell 
of  Tonquin  beans  in  the  room.  I  had  always  noticed 
this  scent  about  any  of  the  things  which  had  belonged 
to  her  mother ;  and  many  of  the  letters  were  addressed 
to  her  —  yellow  bundles  of  love-letters,  sixty  or 
seventy  years  old. 

Miss  Matty  undid  the  packet  with  a  sigh  ;  but  she 
stifled  it  directly,  as  if  it  were  hardly  right  to  regret 
the  flight  of  time,  or  of  life  either.  We  agreed  to 
look  them  over  separately,  each  taking  a  different 
letter  out  of  the  same  bundle  and  describing  its  contents 
to  the  other  before  destroying  it.  I  never  knew  what 
sad  work  the  reading  of  old  letters  was  before  that 
evening,  though  I  could  hardly  tell  why.  The  letters 
were  as  happy  as  letters  could  be  —  at  least  those 
early  letters  were.  There  was  in  them  a  vivid  and 
intense  sense  of  the  present  time,  which  seemed  so 
strong  and  full,  as  if  it  could  never  pass  away,  and  as 
if  the  warm  living  hearts  that  so  expressed  themselves 


OLD  LETTERS  79 

could  never  die,  and  be  as  nothing  to  the  sunny  earth. 
I  should  have  felt  less  melancholy,  I  believe,  if  the 
letters  had  been  more  so.  I  saw  the  tears  stealing 
down  the  well-worn  furrows  of  Miss  Matty's  cheeks, 
and  her  spectacles  often  wanted  wiping.  I  trusted  at 
last  that  she  would  light  the  other  candle,  for  my  own 
eyes  were  rather  dim,  and  I  wanted  more  light  .to  see 
the  pale  and  faded  ink ;  but  no,  even  through  her  tears, 
she  saw  and  remembered  her  little  economical  ways. 
The  earliest  set  of  letters  were  two  bundles  tied 
together,  ard  ticketed  (in  Miss  Jenkyns's  handwrit- 
ing), "  Letters  interchanged  between  my  ever-hon- 
oured father  and  my  dearly-beloved  mother,  prior  to 
their  marriage,  in  July  1774."  I  should  guess  that 
the  rector  of  Cranford  was  about  twenty-seven  years 
of  age  when  he  wrote  those  letters ;  and  Miss  Matty 
told  me  that  her  mother  was  just  eighteen  at  the  time 
of  her  wedding.  With  my  idea  of  the  rector,  derived 
from  a  picture  in  the  dining-parlour,  stiff  and  stately, 
in  a  huge  full-bottomed  wig,  with  gown,  cassock,  and 
bands,  and  his  hand  upon  a  copy  of  the  only  sermon 
he  ever  published  —  it  was  strange  to  read  these 
letters.  They  were  full  of  eager  passionate  ardour; 
short  homely  sentences,  right  fresh  from  the  heart 
(very  different  from  the  grand  Latinised,  Johnsonian 
style  of  the  printed  sermon,  preached  before  some 
judge  at  assize  time) .  His  letters  were  a  curious  con- 
trast to  those  of  his  girl-bride.  She  v/as  evidently 
rather  annoyed  at  his  demands  upon  her  for  expres- 
sions of  love,  and  could  not  quite  understand  what  he 
meant  by  repeating  the  same  thing  over  in  so  many 
different  ways ;  but  what  she  was  quite  clear  about 


80 


CRANFORD 


was  a  longing  for  a  white  "  Paduasoy  "  —  whatever 
that  might  be ;  and  six  or  seven  letters  were  princi- 
pally occupied  in  asking  her  lover  to  use  his  influence 


"  Preached  before  some  judge'' 


with  her  parents  (who  evidently  kept  her  in  good 
order)  to  obtain  this  or  that  article  of  dress,  more 
especially  the  white  "  Paduasoy."  He  cared  nothing 
how  she  was  dressed  ;  she  was  always  lovely  enough 


OLD  LETTERS  81 

for  him,  as  he  took  pains  to  assure  her,  when  she 
begged  him  to  express  in  his  answers  a  predilection 
for  particular  pieces  of  finery,  in  order  that  she  might 
show  what  he  said  to  her  parents.  But  at  length  he 
seemed  to  find  out  that  she  would  not  be  married  till 
she  had  a  "  trousseau "  to  her  mind ;  and  then  he 
sent  her  a  letter,  which  had  evidently  accompanied  a 
whole  boxful  of  finery,  and  in  which  he  requested  that 
she  might  be  dressed  in  everything  her  heart  desired. 
This  was  the  first  letter,  ticketed  in  a  frail,  delicate 
hand, ''  From  my  dearest  John."  Shortly  after\vards 
they  were  married,  I  suppose,  from  the  intermission 
in  their  correspondence. 

'•  We  must  burn  them,  I  think,"  said  Miss  Matty, 
looking  doubtfully  at  me.  "  No  one  will  care  for  them 
when  I  am  gone."  And  one  by  one  she  dropped 
them  into  the  middle  of  the  fire,  watching  each  blaze 
up,  die  out,  and  rise  away,  in  faint,  white,  ghostly 
semblance,  up  the  chimney,  before  she  gave  another 
to  the  same  fate.  The  room  was  light  enough  now  ; 
but  1,  like  her,  was  fascinated  into  watching  the  de- 
struction of  those  letters,  into  which  the  honest 
warmth  of  a  manly  heart  had  been  poured  forth. 

The  next  letter,  likewise  docketed  by  Miss  Jenkyns, 
was  endorsed,  "  Letter  of  pious  congratulation  and 
exhortation  from  my  venerable  grandfather  to  my 
beloved  mother,  on  occasion  of  my  own  birth.  Also 
some  practical  remarks  on  the  desirability  of  keeping 
warm  the  extremities  of  infants,  from  my  excellent 
grandmother." 

The  first  part  was,  indeed,  a  severe  and  forcible 
picture  of  the  responsibilities  of  mothers,  and  a  warn- 


82  CRANFORD 

ing  against  the  evils  that  were  in  the  world,  and  lying 
in  ghastly  wait  for  the  little  baby  of  two  days  old.  His 
wife  did  not  write,  said  the  old  gentleman,  because  he 
had  forbidden  it,  she  being  indisposed  with  a  sprained 
ankle,  which  (he  said)  quite  incapacitated  her  from 
holding  a  pen.  However,  at  the  foot  of  the  page 
was  a  small  "  T.O.,"  and  on  turning  it  over,  sure 
enough,  there  was  a  letter  to  "  my  dear,  dearest 
Molly,"  begging  her,  when  she  left  her  room,  what- 
ever she  did,  to  go  up  stairs  before  going  dowti :  and 
telling  her  to  wrap  her  baby's  feet  up  in  flannel,  and 
keep  it  warm  by  the  fire,  although  it  was  summer, 
for  babies  were  so  tender. 

It  was  pretty  to  see  from  the  letters,  which  were 
evidently  exchanged  with  some  frequency  between 
the  young  mother  and  the  grandmother,  how  the  girl- 
ish vanity  was  being  weeded  out  of  her  heart  by  love 
for  her  baby.  The  white  "  Paduasoy  "  figured  again 
in  the  letters,  with  almost  as  much  vigour  as  before. 
In  one,  it  was  being  made  into  a  christening  cloak 
for  the  baby.  It  decked  it  when  it  went  with  its 
parents  to  spend  a  day  or  two  at  Arley  Hall.  It  added 
to  its  charms  when  it  was  "  the  prettiest  little  baby 
that  ever  was  seen.  Dear  mother,  I  wish  you  could 
see  her  !  Without  any  parshality,  I  do  think  she  will 
grow  up  a  regular  bewty  !  "  I  thought  of  Miss  Jen- 
kyns,  gray,  withered,  and  wrinkled,  and  I  wondered 
if  her  mother  had  known  her  in  the  courts  of  heaven  ; 
and  then  I  knew  that  she  had,  and  that  they  stood 
there  in  angelic  guise. 

There  was  a  great  gap  before  any  of  the  rector's 
letters  appeared.     And   then   his  wife  had  changed 


OLD  LETTERS  83 

her  mode  of  endorsement.  It  was  no  longer  from 
'•My  dearest  John";  it  was  from  "My  honoured 
Husband."  The  letters  were  written  on  occasion  of 
the  publication  of  the  same  Sermon  which  was  repre- 
sented in  the  picture.  The  preaching  before  "  My 
Lord  Judge,"  and  the  "  publishing  by  request,"  was 
evidently  the  culminating  point  —  the  event  of  his 
life.  It  had  been  necessary  for  him  to  go  up  to  Lon- 
don to  superintend  it  through  the  press.  Many 
friends  had  to  be  called  upon,  and  consulted,  before 
he  could  decide  on  any  printer  fit  for  so  onerous  a 
task;  and  at  length  it  was  arranged  that  J.  and  J. 
Rivingtons  were  to  have  the  honourable  responsibil- 
ity. The  worthy  rector  seemed  to  be  strung  up  by 
the  occasion  to  a  high  literary  pitch,  for  he  could 
hardly  write  a  letter  to  his  wife  without  cropping  out 
into  Latin.  I  remember  the  end  of  one  of  his  letters 
ran  thus :  "  I  shall  ever  hold  the  virtuous  qualities  of 
my  Molly  in  remembrance,  dum  ?netnor  ipse  met,  duni 
spiritus  regit  artus,''''  which,  considering  that  the 
English  of  his  correspondent  was  sometimes  at  fault  in 
grammar,  and  often  in  spelling,  might  be  taken  as  a 
proof  of  how  much  he  "idealised  his  Molly";  and, 
as  Miss  Jenkyns  used  to,  say,  "  People  talk  a  great 
deal  about  idealising  nowadays,  whatever  that  may 
mean."  But  this  was  nothing  to  a  fit  of  writing 
classical  poetry  which  soon  seized  him,  in  which  his 
Molly  figured  away  as  "  Maria."  The  letter  contain- 
ing the  carmen  was  endorsed  by  her,  "  Hebrew 
verses  sent  me  by  my  honoured  husband.  I  thowt  to 
have  had  a  letter  about  killing  the  pig,  but  must  wait. 
Mem.,  to  send  the  poetry  to  Sir  Peter  Arley,  as  my 


84  CRANFORD 

husband  desires."  And  in  a  post-scriptum  note  in 
his  handwriting  it  was  stated  that  the  Ode  had  ap- 
peared in  the  Gentlemati's  Magazine,  December  1782. 

Her  letters  back  to  her  husband  (treasured  as  fondly 
by  him  as  if  they  had  been  M.  T.  Ciceronis  Epistolce) 
were  more  satisfactory  to  an  absent  husband  and 
father  than  his  could  ever  have  been  to  her.  She 
told  him  how  Deborah  sewed  her  seam  very  neatly 
every  day,  and  read  to  her  in  the  books  he  had  set 
her ;  how  she  was  a  very  '•  forrard,"  good  child,  but 
would  ask  questions  her  mother  could  not  answer, 
but  how  she  did  not  let  herself  down  by  saying  she 
did  not  know,  but  took  to  stirring  the  fire,  or  sending 
the  "forrard"  child  on  an  errand.  Matty  was  now 
the  mother's  darling,  and  promised  (like  her  sister  at 
her  age)  to  be  a  great  beauty.  I  was  reading  this 
aloud  to  Miss  Matty,  who  smiled  and  sighed  a  little 
at  the  hope,  so  fondly  expressed,  that  "  little  Matty 
might  not  be  vain,  even  if  she  were  a  bewty." 

"  I  had  very  pretty  hair,  my  dear,"  said  Miss 
Matilda;  "and  not  a  bad  mouth."  And  I  saw  her 
soon  afterwards  adjust  her  cap  and  draw  herself  up. 

But  to  return  to  Mrs.  Jenkyns's  letters.  She  told 
her  husband  about  the  poor  in  the  parish ;  what 
homely  domestic  medicines  she  had  administered ; 
what  kitchen  physic  she  had  sent.  She  had  evidently 
held  his  displeasure  as  a  rod  in  pickle  over  the  heads 
of  all  the  ne'er-do-wells.  She  asked  for  his  direc- 
tions about  the  cows  and  pigs ;  and  did  not  always 
obtain  them,  as  I  have  shown  before. 

The  kind  old  grandmother  was  dead  when  a  little 
boy  was  born,  soon  after  the  publication  of  the  Ser- 


OLD  LETTERS  85 

mon  ;  but  there  was  another  letter  of  exhortation  from 
the  grandfather,  more  stringent  and  admonitory  than 
ever,  now  that  there  was  a  boy  to  be  guarded  from  the 
snares  of  the  world.  He  described  all  the  various 
sins  into  which  men  might  fall,  until  I  wondered  how 
any  man  ever  came  to  a  natural  death.  The  gallows 
seemed  as  if  it  must  have  been  the  termination  of  the 
lives  of  most  of  the  grandfather's  friends  and  acquaint- 
ance ;  and  I  was  not  surprised  at  the  way  in  which 
he  spoke  of  this  life  being  "a  vale  of  tears." 

It  seemed  curious  that  I  should  never  have  heard 
of  this  brother  before ;  but  I  concluded  that  he  had 
died  young,  or  else  surely  his  name  would  have  been 
alluded  to  by  his  sisters. 

By  and  by  we  came  to  packets  of  Miss  Jenkyns's 
letters.  These  Miss  Matty  did  regret  to  burn.  She 
said  all  the  others  had  been  only  interesting  to  those 
who  loved  the  writers,  and  that  it  seemed  as  if  it  would 
have  hurt  her  to  allow  them  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
strangers,  who  had  not  known  her  dear  mother,  and 
how  good  she  was,  although  she  did  not  always  spell 
quite  in  the  modern  fashion ;  but  Deborah's  letters 
were  so  very  superior!  Any  one  might  profit  by 
reading  them.  It  was  a  long  time  since  she  had  read 
Mrs.  Chapone,  but  she  knew  she  used  to  think  that 
Deborah  could  have  said  the  same  thing  quite  as  well ; 
and  as  for  Mrs.  Carter!  people  thought  a  deal  of  her 
letters,  just  because  she  had  written  Epictetus,  but 
she  was  quite  sure  Deborah  would  never  have  made 
use  of  such  a  common  expression  as  "I  canna  be 
fashed ! " 

Miss  Matty  did  grudge  burning  these  letters,  it  was 


86  CRANFORD 

evident.  She  would  not  let  them  be  carelessly  passed 
over  with  any  quiet  reading,  and  skipping,  to  myself. 
She  took  them  from  me,  and  even  lighted  the  second 
candle  in  order  to  read  them  aloud  witTi  a  proper  em- 
phasis, and  without  stumbling  over  the  big  words. 
Oh  dear!  how  I  wanted  facts  instead  of  reflections, 
before  those  letters  were  concluded  !  They  lasted  us 
two  nights ;  and  I  won't  deny  that  I  made  use  of  the 
time  to  think  of  many  other  things,  and  yet  I  was 
always  at  my  post  at  the  end  of  each  sentence. 

The  rector's  letters,  and  those  of  his  wife  and 
mother-in-law,  had  all  been  tolerably  short  and  pithy, 
written  in  a  straight  hand,  with  the  lines  very  close 
together.  Sometimes  the  whole  letter  was  contained 
on  a  mere  scrap  of  paper.  The  paper  was  very  yellow, 
and  the  ink  very  brown ;  some  of  the  sheets  were  (as 
Miss  Matty  made  me  observe)  the  old  original  post, 
with  the  stamp  in  the  corner  representing  a  post-boy 
riding  for  life  and  twanging  his  horn.  The  letters  of 
Mrs.  Jenkyns  and  her  mother  were  fastened  with  a  great 
round  red  wafer ;  for  it  was  before  Miss  Edgeworth's 
Patronage  had  banished  wafers  from  polite  society. 
It  was  evident,  from  the  tenor  of  what  was  said,  that 
franks  were  in  great  request,  and  were  even  used  as  a 
means  of  paying  debts  by  needy  members  of  Parlia- 
ment. The  rector  sealed  his  epistles  with  an  immense 
coat  of  arms,  and  showed  by  the  care  with  which  he 
had  performed  this  ceremony  that  he  expected  they 
should  be  cut  open,  not  broken  by  any  thoughtless  or 
impatient  hand.  Now,  Miss  Jenkyns's  letters  were  of 
a  later  date  in  form  and  writing.  She  wrote  on  the 
square  sheet  which  we  have  learned  to  call  old-fash- 


OLD  LETTERS  87 

ioned.  Her  hand  was  admirably  calculated,  together 
with  her  use  of  many-syllabled  words,  to  fill  up  a 
sheet,  and  then  came  the  pride  and  delight  of  cross- 
ing. Poor  Miss  Matty  got  sadly  puzzled  with  this, 
for  the  words  gathered  size  like  snowballs,  and  towards 
the  end  of  her  letter  Miss  Jenkyns  used  to  become 
quite  sesquipedalian.  In  one  to  her  father,  slightly 
theological  and  controversial  in  its  tone,  she  had 
spoken  of  Herod,  Tetrarch  of  Idumea.  Miss  Matty 
read  it  "  Herod,  Petrarch  of  Etruria,"  and  was  just  as 
well  pleased  as  if  she  had  been  right. 

I  can't  quite  remember  the  date,  but  I  think  it  was 
in  1805  that  Miss  Jenkyns  wrote  the  longest  series  of 
letters  —  on  occasion  of  her  absence  on  a  visit  to  some 
friends  near  Newcastle-upon-Tyne.  These  friends 
were  intimate  with  the  commandant  of  the  garrison 
there,  and  heard  from  him  of  all  the  preparations  that 
were  being  made  to  repel  the  invasion  of  Buonaparte, 
which  some  people  imagined  might  take  place  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Tyne.  Miss  Jenkyns  was  evidently 
verj-  much  alarmed ;  and  the  first  part  of  her  letters 
was  often  written  in  pretty  intelligible  English,  con- 
veying particulars  of  the  preparations  which  were 
made  in  the  fj»mily  with  whom  she  was  residing 
against  the  dreaded  event ;  the  bundles  of  clothes 
that  were  packed  up  ready  for  a  flight  to  Alston  Moor 
(a  wild  hilly  piece  of  ground  between  Northumber- 
land and  Cumberland)  ;  the  signal  that  was  to  be 
given  for  this  flight,  and  for  the  simultaneous  turning 
out  of  the  volunteers  under  arms  —  which  said  signal 
was  to  consist  (if  I  remember  rightly)  in  ringing  the 
church  bell$  in  a  particular  and  ominous   manner. 


88  CRANFORD 

One  day,  when  Miss  Jenkyns  and  her  hosts  were  at  a 
dinner  party  in  Newcastle,  this  warning  summons 
was  actually  given  (not  a  very  wise  proceeding,  if 
there  be  any  truth  in  the  moral  attached  to  the  fable 
of  the  Boy  and  the  Wolf;  but  so  it  was),  and  Miss 
Jenkyns,  hardly  recovered  from  her  fright,  wrote  the 
next  day  to  describe  the  sound,  the  breathless  shock, 
the  hurry  and  alarm ;  and  then,  taking  breath,  she 
added, "  How  trivial,  my  dear  father,  do  all  our  appre- 
hensions of  the  last  evening  appear,  at  the  present 
moment,  to  calm  and  inquiring  minds!"  And  here 
Miss  Matty  broke  in  with  — 

"  But,  indeed,  my  dear,  they  were  not  at  all  trivial 
or  trifling  at  the  time.  I  know  I  used  to  wake  up  in 
the  night  many  a  time  and  think  I  heard  the  tramp 
of  the  French  entering  Cranford.  Many  people 
talked  of  hiding  themselves  in  the  salt  mines  —  and 
meat  would  have  kept  capitally  down  there,  only 
perhaps  we  should  have  been  thirsty.  And  my 
father  preached  a  whole  set  of  sermons  on  the  oc- 
casion ;  one  set  in  the  mornings,  all  about  David 
and  Goliath,  to  spirit  up  the  people  to  fighting  with 
spades  or  bricks,  if  need  were ;  and  the  other  set  in 
the  afternoons,  proving  that  Napoleon  (that  was  an- 
other name  for  Bony,  as  we  used  to  call  him)  was  all 
the  same  as  an  Apollyon  and  Abaddon.  I  remember 
my  father  rather  thought  he  should  be  asked  to  print 
this  last  set ;  but  the  parish  had,  perhaps,  had  enotigh 
of  them  with  hearing." 

Peter  Marmaduke  Arley  Jenkyns  ("poor  Peter!" 
as  Miss  Matty  began  to  call  him)  was  at  school  at 
Shrewsbury  by  this  time.     The  rector  took  up  his 


OLD  LETTERS  89 

pen,  and  rubbed  up  his  Latin  once  more,  to  corre- 
spond with  his  boy.  It  was  very  clear  that  the  lad's 
were  what  are  called  show  letters.  They  were  of  a 
highly  mental  description,  giving  an  account  of  his 
studies,  and  his  intellectual  hopes  of  various  kinds, 
with  an  occasional  quotation  from  the  classics ;  but, 
now  and  then,  the  animal  nature  broke  out  in  such  a 
little  sentence  as  this,  evidently  written  in  a  trembling 
hurrj-,  after  the  letter  had  been  inspected :  "  Mother 
dear,  do  send  me  a  cake,  and  put  plenty  of  citron  in." 
The  "mother  dear"  probably  answered  her  boy  in 
the  form  of  cakes  and  "  goody,"  for  there  were  none 
of  her  letters  among  this  set ;  but  a  whole  collection 
of  the  rector's  to  whom  the  Latin  in  his  boy's  letters 
was  like  a  trumpet  to  the  old  war-horse.  I  do  not 
know  much  about  Latin,  certainly,  and  it  is,  perhaps, 
an  ornamental  language,  but  not  very  useful,  I  think 
—  at  least  to  judge  from  the  bits  I  remember  out  of 
the  rector's  letters.  One  was,  "  You  have  not  got 
that  town  in  your  map  of  Ireland ;  but  Bonus  Ber- 
nardus  non  videt  omnia,  as  the  Proverbia  say." 
Presently  it  became  very  evident  that  "  poor  Peter  " 
got  himself  into  many  scrapes.  There  were  letters 
of  stilted  penitence  to  his  father,  for  some  wrong- 
doing ;  and,  among  them  all  was  a  badly-written, 
badly-sealed,  badly-directed,  blotted  note  —  "  My 
dear,  dear,  dear,  dearest  mother,  I  will  be  a  better 
boy ;  I  will,  indeed  ;  but  don't,  please,  be  ill  for  me ; 
I  am  not  worth  it ;  but  I  will  be  good,  darling 
mother."  , 

Miss  Matty  could  not  speak  for  crying,  after  she 
had  read  this  note.     She  gave  it  to  me  in  silence, 


90  CRANFORD 

and  then  got  up  and  took  it  to  her  sacred  recesses  in 
her  own  room,  for  fear,  by  any  chance,  it  might  get 
burnt.  "Poor  Peter!"  she  said;  "he  was  always 
in  scrapes ;  he  was  too  easy.  They  led  him  wrong, 
and  then  left  him  in  the  lurch.  But  he  was  too  fond 
of  mischief.  He  could  never  resist  a  joke.  Poor 
Peter!" 


bOOR  Peter's  career  lay  be- 
fore him  rather  pleasantly 
mapped  out  by  kind  friends, 
but  Bonus  Bernardns  non  videt  omnia,  in  this  map 
too.  He  was  to  win  honours  at  Shrewsbury'  School, 
and  carry  them  thick  to  Cambridge,  and  after  that,  a 
living  awaited  him,  the  gift  of  his  godfather,  Sir  Peter 
Arley.  Poor  Peter!  his  lot  in  life  was  very  different 
to  what  his  friends  had  hoped  and  planned.  Miss 
Matty  told  me  all  about  it,  and  I  think  it  was  a  relief 
to  her  when  she  had  done  so. 

He  was  the  darling  of  his  mother,  who  seemed  to 
dote  on  all  her  children,  though  she  was,  perhaps, 
a  little  afraid  of  Deborah ''s  superior  acquirements. 
Deborah  was  the  favourite  of  her  father,  and  when 
Peter  disappointed  him  she  became  his  pride.  The 
sole  honour  Peter  brought  away  from  Shrewsbury 
was  ihe  reputation  of  being  the  best  good  fellow  that 
ever  was,  and  of  being  the  captain  of  the  school  in 
the  art  of  practical  joking.  His  father  was  disap- 
pointed, but  set  about  remedying  the  matter  iu  a 
manly  way.  He  could  not  afford  to  send  Peter  to 
read  with  any  tutor,  but  he  could  read  with  him  him- 

91 


92  CRANFORD 

self;  and  Miss  Matty  told  me  much  of  the  awful 
preparations  in  the  way  of  dictionaries  and  lexicons 
that  were  made  in  her  father's  study  the  morning 
Peter  began. 

"  My  poor  mother  !  "  said  she.  "  I  remember  how- 
she  used  to  stand  in  the  hall,  just  near  enough  the 
study-door,  to  catch  the  tone  of  my  father's  voice.  I 
could  tell  in  a  moment  if  all  was  going  right,  by  her 
face.     And  it  did  go  right  for  a  long  time." 

"What  went  wrong  at  last?"  said  I.  "  That  tire- 
some Latin,  I  daresay." 

"No  !  it  was  not  the  Latin.  Peter  was  in  high 
favour  with  my  father,  for  he  worked  up  well  for  him. 
But  he  seemed  to  think  that  the  Cranford  people 
might  be  joked  about,  and  made  fun  of,  and  they  did 
not  like  it ;  nobody  does.  He  was  always  hoaxing 
them  ;  '  hoaxing '  is  not  a  pretty  word,  my  dear,  and 
I  hope  you  won't  tell  your  father  I  used  it,  for  I  should 
not  like  him  to  think  that  I  was  not  choice  in  my  lan- 
guage, after  living  with  such  a  woman  as  Deborah. 
And  be  sure  you  never  use  it  yourself.  I  don't  know 
how  it  slipped  out  of  my  mouth,  except  it  was  that  I 
was  thinking  of  poor  Peter,  and  it  was  always  his 
expression.  But  he  was  a  very  gentlemanly  boy  in 
many  things.  He  was  like  dear  Captain  Brown  in 
always  being  ready  to  help  any  old  person  or  a  child. 
Still,  he  did  like  joking  and  making  fun :  and  he 
seemed  to  think  the  old  ladies  in  Cranford  would 
believe  anything.  There  were  many  old  ladies  living 
here  then ;  we  are  principally  ladies  now,  I  know, 
but  we  are  not  so  old  as  the  ladies  used  to  be  when 
I   was  a  girl.     I  could  laugh  to  think  of  some  of 


POOR  PETER  93 

Peter's  jokes.  No,  my  dear,  I  won't  tell  you  of  them, 
because  they  might  not  shock  you  as  they  ought  to 
do,  and  they  were  very  shocking.  He  even  took  in 
my  father  once,  by  dressing  himself  up  as  a  lady  that 
was  passing  through  the  town  and  wished  to  see  the 
Rector  of  Cranford,  '  who  had  published  that  admir- 
able Assize  Sermon.'  Peter  said  he  was  awfully 
frightened  himself  when  he  saw  how  my  father  took 
it  all  in,  and  even  offered  to  copy  out  all  his  Napoleon 
Buonaparte  sermons  for  her  —  him,  I  mean  —  no,  her, 
for  Peter  was  a  lady  then.  He  told  me  he  was  more 
terrified  than  he  ever  was  before,  all  the  time  my 
father  was  speaking.  He  did  not  think  my  father 
would  have  believed  him ;  and  yet  if  he  had  not,  it 
would  have  been  a  sad  thing  for  Peter.  As  it  was, 
he  was  none  so  glad  of  it,  for  my  father  kept  him  hard 
at  work  copying  out  all  those  twelve  Buonaparte  ser- 
mons for  the  lady  —  that  was  for  Peter  himself,  you 
know.  He  was  the  lady.  And  once  when  he  wanted 
to  go  fishing,  Peter  .said,  '  Confound  the  woman! '  — 
very  bad  language,  my  dear,  but  Peter  was  not  always 
so  guarded  as  he  should  have  been ;  my  father  was 
so  angry  with  him,  it  nearly  frightened  me  out  of  my 
wits :  and  yet  I  could  hardly  keep  from  laughing  at 
the  little  curtseys  Peter  kept  making,  quite  slyly, 
whenever  my  father  spoke  of  the  lady's  excellent  taste 
and  sound  discrimination." 

"  Did  Miss  Jenkyns  know  of  these  tricks?  "  said  I. 

''  Oh  no  !  Deborah  would  have  been  too  much 
shocked.  No,  no  one  knew  but  me,  I  wish  I  had 
always  known  of  Peter's  plans  ;  but  sometimes  he  did 
not  tell  me.     He  used  to  say  the  old  ladies  in  the 


94 


CRANFORD 


The  little  curtseys'' 


tow-n  wanted  something  to  talk  about ;  but  I  don't 
think  they  did.  They  had  the  St.  James's  Chronicle 
three  times  a  week,  just  as  we  have  now,  and  we  have 
plenty  to  say ;    and  I  remember  the  clacking  noise 


POOR  PETER  95 

there  always  was  when  some  of  the  ladies  got  to- 
gether. But,  probably,  schoolboys  talk  more  than 
ladies.  At  last  there  was  a  terrible,  sad  thing  hap- 
pened." Miss  Matty  got  up,  went  to  the  door,  and 
opened  it ;  no  one  was  there.  She  rang  the  bell  for 
Martha,  and  when  Martha  came,  her  mistress  told 
her  to  go  for  eggs  to  a  farm  at  the  other  end  of  the 
town. 

"  I  will  lock  the  door  after  you,  Martha.  You  are 
not  afraid  to  go,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,  not  at  all ;  Jem  Hearn  will  be  only 
too  proud  to  go  with  me." 

Miss  Matty  drew  herself  up,  and  as  soon  as  we 
were  alone,  she  wished  that  Martha  had  more 
maidenly  reserve. 

'•  We'll  put  out  the  candle,  my  dear.  We  can 
talk  just  as  well  by  firelight,  you  know.  There  ! 
Well,  you  see,  Deborah  had  gone  from  home  for  a 
fortnight  or  so ;  it  was  a  very  still,  quiet  day,  1 
remember,  overhead  ;  and  the  lilacs  were  all  in  flower, 
so  1  suppose  it  was  spring.  My  father  had  gone  out 
to  see  some  sick  people  in  the  parish  ;  I  recollect  see- 
ing him  leave  the  house  with  his  wig  and  shovel-hat 
and  cane.  What  possessed  our  poor  Peter  I  don't 
know ;  he  had  the  sweetest  temper,  and  yet  he  always 
seemed  to  like  to  plague  Deborah.  She  never  laughed 
at  his  jokes,  and  thought  him  ungenteel,  and  not  care- 
ful enough  about  improving  his  mind  ;  and  that  vexed 
him. 

"  Well !  he  went  to  her  room,  it  seems,  and  dressed 
himself  in  her  old  gown,  and  shawl,  and  bonnet ;  just 
the  things  she  used  to  wear  in  Cranford,  and  was 


96  CRANFORD 

known  by  everywhere ;  and  he  made  the  pillow  into 
a  little  —  you  are  sure  you  locked  the  door,  my  dear, 
for  I  should  not  like  any  one  to  hear  —  into  —  into  — 
a  little  baby,  with  white  long  clothes.  It  was  only, 
as  he  told  me  after\vards,  to  make  something  to  talk 
about  in  the  town  ;  he  never  thought  of  it  as  affecting 
Deborah.  And  he  went  and  walked  up  and  down  in 
the  Filbert  walk  —  just  half-hidden  by  the  rails,  and 
half-seen  ;  and  he  cuddled  his  pillow,  just  like  a  baby, 
and  talked  to  it  all  the  nonsense  people  do.  Oh  dear! 
and  my  father  came  stepping  stately  up  the  street,  as 
he  always  did ;  and  what  should  he  see  but  a  little 
black  crowd  of  people  —  I  daresay  as  many  as  twenty 
—  all  peeping  through  his  garden  rails.  So  he 
thought,  at  first,  they  were  only  looking  at  a  new 
rhododendron  that  was  in  full  bloom,  and  that  he 
was  very  proud  of;  and  he  walked  slower,  that  they 
might  have  more  time  to  admire.  And  he  wondered 
if  he  could  make  out  a  sermon  from  the  occasion,  and 
thought,  perhaps,  there  was  some  relation  between 
the  rhododendrons  and  the  lilies  of  the  field.  My 
poor  father!  When  he  came  nearer,  he  began  to 
wonder  that  they  did  not  see  him ;  but  their  heads 
were  all  so  close  together,  peeping  and  peeping  !  My 
father  was  amongst  them,  meaning,  he  said,  to  ask 
them  to  walk  into  the  garden  with  him,  and  admire 
the  beautiful  vegetable  production,  when  —  oh,  my 
dear  !  I  tremble  to  think  of  it  —  he  looked  through 
the  rails  himself,  and  saw  —  I  don't  know  what  he 
thought  he  saw,  but  old  Clare  told  me  his  face  went 
quite  gray-white  with  anger,  and  his  eyes  blazed  out 
under  his  frowning  black  brows ;  and  he  spoke  out  — 


POOR  PETER  97 

oh,  so  terribly  !  —  and  bade  them  all  stop  where  they 
were  —  not  one  of  them  to  go,  not  one  to  stir  a  step ; 
and,  swift  as  light,  he  was  in  at  the  garden  door,  and 
down  the  Filbert  walk,  and  seized  hold  of  poor  Peter, 
and  tore  his  clothes  off  his  back  —  bonnet,  shawl, 
gown,  and  all  —  and  threw  the  pillow  among  the 
people  over  the  railings  :  and  then  he  was  very,  very 
angry  indeed,  and  before  all  the  people  he  lifted  up 
his  cane  and  flogged  Peter  ! 

"  My  dear,  that  boy's  trick,  on  that  sunny  day, 
when  all  seemed  going  straight  and  well,  broke  my 
mother's  heart,  and  changed  my  father  for  life.  It 
did,  indeed.  Old  Clare  said,  Peter  looked  as  white 
as  my  father;  and  stood  as  still  as  a  statue  to  be 
flogged ;  and  my  father  struck  hard  !  When  my 
father  stopped  to  take  breath,  Peter  said,  '■  Have  you 
done  enough,  sir  ?  '  quite  hoarsely,  and  still  standing 
quite  quiet.  1  don't  know  what  my  father  said  — 
or  if  he  said  anything.  But  old  Clare  said,  Peter 
turned  to  where  the  people  outside  the  railing  were, 
and  made  them  a  low  bow,  as  grand  and  as  grave  as 
any  gentleman ;  and  then  walked  slowly  into  the 
house.  I  was  in  the  store-room  helping  my  mother 
to  make  cowslip-wine.  I  cannot  abide  the  wine  now, 
nor  the  scent  of  the  flowers ;  they  turn  me  sick  and 
faint,  as  they  did  that  day,  when  Peter  came  in,  look- 
ing as  haughty  as  any  man  —  indeed,  looking  like  a 
man,  not  like  a  boy.  '  Mother  ! '  he  said,  '  I  am  come 
to  say,  God  bless  you  for  ever.'  I  saw  his  lips  quiver 
as  he  spoke ;  and  I  think  he  durst  not  say  anything 
more  loving,  for  the  purpose  that  was  in  his  heart. 
She  looked  at  him  rather  frightened,  and  wondering, 


98  CRANFORD 

and  asked  him  what  was  to  do.  He  did  not  smile  or 
speak,  but  put  his  arms  round  her  and  kissed  her  as  if 
he  did  not  know  how  to  leave  off;  and  before  she  could 
speak  again,  he  was  gone.  We  talked  it  over,  and 
could  not  understand  it,  and  she  bade  me  go  and  seek 
my  father,  and  ask  what  it  was  all  about.  I  found  him 
walking  up  and  down,  looking  very  highly  displeased. 

"  '  Tell  your  mother  I  have  flogged  Peter,  and  that 
he  richly  deserved  it.' 

"  I  durst  not  ask  any  more  questions.  When  I 
told  my  mother,  she  sat  down,  quite  faint,  for  a 
minute.  I  remember,  a  few  days  after,  I  saw  the 
poor,  withered  cowslip  flowers  thrown  out  to  the  leaf 
heap,  to  decay  and  die  there.  There  was  no  making 
of  cowslip-wine  that  year  at  the  rectory  —  nor,  indeed, 
ever  after. 

"  Presently  my  mother  went  to  my  father.  I  know 
I  thought  of  Queen  Esther  and  King  Ahasuerus ;  for 
my  mother  was  very  pretty  and  delicate-looking,  and 
my  father  looked  as  terrible  as  King  Ahasuerus. 
Some  time  after  they  came  out  together;  and  then 
my  mother  told  me  what  had  happened,  and  that  she 
was  going  up  to  Peter's  room  at  my  father's  desire  — 
though  she  was  not  to  tell  Peter  this  —  to  talk  the 
matter  over  with  him.  But  no  Peter  was  there.  We 
looked  over  the  house ;  no  Peter  was  there  !  Even 
my  father,  who  had  not  liked  to  join  in  the  search  at 
first,  helped  us  before  long.  The  rectory  was  a  very 
old  house  —  steps  up  into  a  room,  steps  down  into  a 
room,  all  through.  At  first,  my  mother  went  calling 
low  and  soft,  as  if  to  reassure  the  poor  boy,  '  Peter  ! 
Peter,  dear  !  it's  only  me ; '  but,  by  and  by,  as  the 


POOR  PETER  99 

servants  came  back  from  the  errands  my  father  had 
sent  them,  in  different  directions,  to  find  where  Peter 
was  —  as  we  found  he  was  not  in  the  garden,  nor  the 
hayloft,  nor  anywhere  about  —  my  mother's  cry  grew 
louder  and  wilder,  '  Peter  !  Peter,  my  darling  !  where 
are  you  ? '  for  then  she  felt  and  understood  that  that 
long  kiss  meant  some  sad  kind  of '  good-bye.'  The 
afternoon  went  on — my  mother  never  resting,  but 
seeking  again  and  again  in  every  possible  place  that 
had  been  looked  into  twenty  times  before,  nay,  that 
she  had  looked  into  over  and  over  again  herself.  My 
father  sat  with  his  head  in  his  hands,  not  speaking 
except  when  his  messengers  came  in,  bringing  no  tid- 
ings ;  then  he  lifted  up  his  face,  so  strong  and  sad, 
and  told  them  to  go  again  in  some  new  direction. 
My  mother  kept  passing  from  room  to  room,  in  and 
out  of  the  house,  moving  noiselessly,  but  never  ceas- 
ing. Neither  she  nor  my  father  durst  leave  the 
house,  which  was  the  meeting-place  for  all  the  mes- 
sengers. At  last  (and  it  was  nearly  dark)  my  father 
rose  up.  He  took  hold  of  my  mother's  arm  as  she 
came  with  wild,  sad  pace  through  one  door,  and 
quickly  towards  another.  She  started  at  the  touch 
of  his  hand,  for  she  had  forgotten  all  in  the  world  but 
Peter. 

"* Molly!'  said  he,  'I  did  not  think  all  this  would 
happen.'  He  looked  into  her  face  for  comfort —  her 
poor  face,  all  wild  and  white ;  for  neither  she  nor 
my  father  had  dared  to  acknowledge  —  much  less  act 
upon  —  the  terror  that  was  in  their  hearts,  lest  Peter 
should  liave  made  away  with  himself.  My  father 
saw  no  conscious  look  in  his  wife's  hot,  dreary  eyes. 


100  CRANFORD 

and  he  missed  the  sympathy  that  she  had  always 
been  ready  to  give  him  —  strong  man  as  he  was,  and 
at  the  dumb  despair  in  her  face  his  tears  began  to 
flow.  But  when  she  saw  this,  a  gentle  sorrow  came 
over  her  countenance,  and  she  said,  'Dearest  John! 
don't  cry ;  come  with  me,  and  we'll  find  him,'  almost 
as  cheerfully  as  if  she  knew  where  he  was.  And 
she  took  my  father's  great  hand  in  her  little  soft  one 
and  led  him  along,  the  tears  dropping  as  he  walked 
on  that  same  unceasing,  weary  walk,  from  room  to 
room,  through  house  and  garden. 

"  Oh,  how  I  wished  for  Deborah  !  I  had  no  time 
for  crying,  for  now  all  seemed  to  depend  on  me.  I 
wrote  for  Deborah  to  come  home.  I  sent  a  message 
privately  to  that  same  Mr.  Holbrook's  house  —  poor 
Mr.  Holbrook  !  —  you  know  who  I  mean.  I  don't 
mean  I  sent  a  message  to  him,  but  I  sent  one  that  I 
could  trust  to  know  if  Peter  was  at  his  house.  For 
at  one  time  Mr.  Holbrook  was  an  occasional  visitor  at 
the  rectory  —  you  know  he  was  Miss  Pole's  cousin  — 
and  he  had  been  very  kind  to  Peter,  and  taught  him 
how  to  fish  —  he  was  very  kind  to  everybody,  and  I 
thought  Peter  might  have  gone  off  there.  But  Mr. 
Holbrook  was  from  home,  and  Peter  had  never  been 
seen.  It  was  night  now;  but  the  doors  were  all 
wide  open,  and  my  father  and  mother  walked  on  and 
on  ;  it  was  more  than  an  hour  since  he  had  joined  her, 
and  I  don't  believe  they  had  ever  spoken  all  that 
time.  I  was  getting  the  parlour  fire  lighted,  and  one 
of  the  servants  was  preparing  tea,  for  I  wanted  them 
to  have  something  to  eat  and  dririk  and  warm  them, 
when  old  Clare  asked  to  speak  to  me. 


POOR  PETER  101 

"  *  I  have  borrowed  the  nets  from  the  weir,  Miss 
Matty.  Shall  we  drag  the  ponds  to-night,  or  wait  for 
the  morning  ? ' 

"  I  remember  staring  in  his  face  to  gather  his  mean- 
ing ;  and  when  I  did,  laughed  out  loud.  The  horror 
of  that  new  thought  —  our  bright,  darling  Peter, 
cold,  and  stark,  and  dead  !  I  remember  the  ring  of 
my  own  laugh  now. 

"  The  next  day  Deborah  was  at  home  before  I  was 
myself  again.  She  would  not  have  been  so  weak  as 
to  give  way  as  I  had  done ;  but  my  screams  (my  hor- 
rible laughter  had  ended  in  crying)  had  roused  my 
sweet  dear  mother,  whose  poor  wandering  wits  were 
called  back  and  collected  as  soon  as  a  child  needed 
her  care.  She  and  Deborah  sat  by  my  bedside ; 
1  knew  by  the  looks  of  each  that  there  had  been  no 
news  of  Peter  —  no  awful,  ghastly  news,  which  was 
what  I  most  had  dreaded  in  my  dull  state  between 
sleeping  and  waking. 

"  The  same  result  of  all  the  searching  had  brought 
something  of  the  same  relief  to  my  mother,  to  whom, 
I  am  sure,  the  thought  that  Peter  might  even  then  be 
hanging  dead  in  some  of  the  familiar  home  places  had 
caused  that  never-ending  walk  of  yesterday.  Her 
soft  eyes  never  were  the  same  again  after  that ;  they 
had  always  a  restless,  craving  look,  as  if  seeking  for 
what  they  could  not  find.  Oh!  it  was  an  awfur  time ; 
coming  down  like  a  thunderbolt  on  the  still  sunny 
day  when  the  lilacs  were  all  in  bloom." 

"Where  was  Mr.  Peter?"  said  I. 

"  He  had  made  his  way  to  Liverpool ;  and  there 
was  war  then ;  and  some  of  the  king's  ships  lay  off 


102  CRANFORD 

the  mouth  of  the  Mersey ;  and  they  were  only  too 
glad  to  have  a  fine  likely  boy  such  as  him  (five  foot 
nine  he  was)  come  to  offer  himself.  The  captain 
wrote  to  my  father,  and  Peter  wrote  to  my  mother. 
Stay  !  those  letters  will  be  somewhere  here." 

We  lighted  the  candle,  and  found  the  captain's 
letter  and  Peter's  too.  And  we  also  found  a  little 
simple  begging  letter  from  Mrs.  Jenkyns  to  Peter, 
addressed  to  him  at  the  house  of  an  old  schoolfel- 
low, whither  she  fancied  he  might  have  gone.  They 
had  returned  it  unopened ;  and  unopened  it  had 
remained  ever  since,  having  been  inadvertently  put 
by  among  the  other  letters  of  that  time.  This  is 
it  — 

"My  dearest  Peter  —  You  did  not  think  we 
should  be  so  sorry  as  we  are,  I  know,  or  you  would 
never  have  gone  away.  You  are  too  good.  Your 
father  sits  and  sighs  till  my  heart  aches  to  hear  him. 
He  cannot  hold  up  his  head  for  grief;  and  yet  he 
only  did  what  he  thought  was  right.  Perhaps  he 
has  been  too  severe,  and  perhaps  I  have  not  been 
kind  enough ;  but  God  knows  how  we  love  you,  my 
dear  only  boy.  Don  looks  sorry  you  are  gone. 
Come  back,  and  make  us  happy,  who  love  you  so 
much.     I  know  you  will  come  back." 

But  Peter  did  not  come  back.  That  spring  day 
was  the  last  time  he  ever  saw  his  mother's  face.  The 
writer  of  the  letter —  the  last  —  the  only  person  who 
had  ever  seen  what  was  written  in  it,  was  dead  long 
ago ;  and  I,  a  stranger,  not  born  at  the  time  when 
this  occurrence  took  place,  was  the  one  to  open  it. 


POOR  PETER  103 

The  captain's  letter  summoned  the  father  and 
mother  to  Liverpool  instantly,  if  they  wished  to  see 
their  boy ;  and,  by  some  of  the  wild  chances  of  life, 
the  captain's  letter  had  been  detained  somewhere, 
somehow. 

Miss  Matty  went  on,  "And  it  was  race-time,  and  all 
the  post-horses  at  Cranford  were  gone  to  the  races ; 
but  my  father  and  mother  set  olf  in  our  own  gig  — 
and  oh  !  my  dear,  they  were  too  late  —  the  ship  was 
gone  !     And  now  read  Peter's  letter  to  my  mother  !  " 

It  was  full  of  love,  and  sorrow,  and  pride  in  his  new 
profession,  and  a  sore  sense  of  his  disgrace  in  the 
eyes  of  the  people  at  Cranford  ;  but  ending  with  a  pas- 
sionate entreaty  that  she  would  come  and  see  him 
before  he  left  the  Mersey :  "  Mother  !  we  may  go 
into  battle.  I  hope  we  shall,  and  lick  those  French ; 
but  I  must  see  you  again  before  that  time." 

"  And  she  was  too  late,"  said  Miss  Matty ;  "  too 
late  ! " 

We  sat  in  silence,  pondering  on  the  full  meaning 
of  those  sad,  sad  words.  At  length  I  asked  Miss 
Matty  to  tell  me  how  her  mother  bore  it. 

"  Oh  ! "  she  said,  "  she  was  patience  itself.  She 
had  never  been  strong,  and  this  weakened  her  terri- 
bly. My  father  used  to  sit  looking  at  her :  far  more 
sad  than  she  was.  He  seemed  as  if  he  could  look  at 
nothing  else  when  she  was  by ;  and  he  was  so  hum- 
ble—  so  very  gentle  now.  He  would,  perhaps,  speak 
in  his  old  way  —  laying  down  the  law,  as  it  were  — 
and  then,  in  a  minute  or  two,  he  would  come  round 
and  put  his  hand  on  our  shoulders,  and  ask  us  in  a 
low  voice  if  he  had  said  anything  to  hurt  us.     I  did 


104  CRANFORD 

not  wonder  at  his  speaking  so  to  Deborah,  for  she 
was  so  clever ;  but  I  could  not  bear  to  hear  him  talk- 
ing so  to  me. 

"But,  you  see,  he  saw  what  we  did  not  —  that  it 
was  killing  my  mother.  Yes  !  killing  her  (put  out 
the  candle,  my  dear;  I  can  talk  better  in  the  dark), 
for  she  was  but  a  frail  woman,  and  ill  fitted  to  stand 
the  fright  and  shock  she  had  gone  through  ;  and  she 
would  smile  at  him  and  comfort  him,  not  in  words, 
but  in  her  looks  and  tones,  which  were  always  cheer- 
ful when  he  was  there.  And  she  would  speak  of  how 
she  thought  Peter  stood  a  good  chance  of  being 
admiral  very  soon  —  he  was  so  brave  and  clever ;  and 
how  she  thought  of  seeing  him  in  his  navy  uniform, 
and  what  sort  of  hats  admirals  wore ;  and  how  much 
more  fit  he  was  to  be  a  sailor  than  a  clergyman ;  and 
all  in  that  way,  just  to  make  my  father  think  she 
was  quite  glad  of  what  came  of  that  unlucky  morn- 
ing's work,  and  the  flogging  which  was  always  in 
his  mind,  as  we  all  knew.  But  oh,  my  dear  !  the 
bitter,  bitter  crying  she  had  when  she  was  alone ; 
and  at  last,  as  she  grew  weaker,  she  could  not  keep 
her  tears  in  when  Deborah  or  me  was  by,  and  would 
give  us  message  after  message  for  Peter  (his  ship  had 
gone  to  the  Mediterranean,  or  somewhere  down  there, 
and  then  he  was  ordered  off  to  India,  and  there  was 
no  overland  route  then)  ;  but  she  still  said  that  no 
one  knew  where  their  death  lay  in  wait,  and  that  we 
were  not  to  think  hers  was  near.  We  did  not  think 
it,  but  we  knew  it,  as  we  saw  her  fading  away. 

"Well,  my  dear,  it's  very  foolish  of  me,  I  know, 
when  in  all  likelihood  I  am  so  near  seeing  her  again. 


POOR  PETER  105 

"And  on/y  think,  love  !  the  very  day  after  her 
death  —  for  she  did  not  live  quite  a  twelvemonth  after 
Peter  went  away  —  the  very  day  after  —  came  a  parcel 
for  her  from  India  —  from  her  poor  boy.  It  was  a 
large,  soft,  white  India  shawl,  with  just  a  little  narrow 
border  all  round ;  just  what  my  mother  would  have 
liked. 

"  We  thought  it  might  rouse  my  father,  for  he  had 
sat  with  her  hand  in  his  all  night  long ;  so  Deborah 
took  it  in  to  him,  and  Peter's  letter  to  her,  and  all. 
At  first,  he  took  no  notice ;  and  we  tried  to  make  a 
kind  of  light  careless  talk  about  the  shawl,  opening  it 
out  and  admiring  it.  Then,  suddenly,  he  got  up,  and 
spoke:  'She  shall  be  buried  in  it,'  he  said;  'Peter 
shall  have  that  comfort ;  and  she  would  have  liked  it.' 

"Well,  perhaps  it  was  not  reasonable,  but  what 
could  we  do  or  say  ?  Oup  gives  people  in  grief  their 
own  way.  He  took  it  up  and  felt  it :  'It  is  just  such 
a  shawl  as  she  wished  for  when  she  was  married,  and 
her  mother  did  not  give  it  her.  I  did  not  know  of  it 
till  after,  or  she  should  have  had  it  —  she  should  ;  but 
she  shall  have  it  now.' 

"  My  mother  looked  so  lovely  in  her  death  !  She 
was  always  pretty,  and  now  she  looked  fair,  and 
waxen,  and  young  —  younger  than  Deborah,  as  she 
stood  trembling  and  shivering  by  her.  We  decked 
her  in  the  long  soft  folds ;  she  lay  smiling,  as  if 
pleased ;  and  people  came  —  all  Cranford  came  —  to 
beg  to  see  her,  for  they  had  loved  her  dearly,  as  well 
they  might ;  and  the  countrywomen  brought  posies ; 
old  Clare's  wife  brought  some  white  violets,  and 
begged  they  might  lie  on  her  breast. 


106  CRANFORD 

"  Deborah  said  to  me,  the  day  of  my  mother's  fun- 
eral, that  if  she  had  a  hundred  offers  she  never  would 
marry  and  leave  my  father.  It  was  not  very  likely 
she  would  have  so  many  —  I  don't  know  that  she  had 
one ;  but  it  was  not  less  to  her  credit  to  say  so.  She 
was  such  a  daughter  to  my  father  as  I  think  there 
never  was  before  or  since.  His  eyes  failed  him,  and 
she  read  book  after  book,  and  wrote,  and  copied,  and 
was  always  at  his  service  in  any  parish  business. 
She  could  do  many  more  things  than  my  poor  mother 
could ;  she  even  once  wrote  a  letter  to  the  bishop  for 
my  father.  But  he  missed  my  mother  sorely ;  the 
whole  parish  noticed  it.  Not  that  he  was  less  active ; 
I  think  he  was  more  so,  and  more  patient  in  helping 
every  one.  I  did  all  I  could  to  set  Deborah  at  liberty 
to  be  with  him  ;  for  1  knew  I  was  good  for  little,  and 
that  my  best  work  in  the  world  was  to  do  odd  jobs 
quietly,  and  set  others  at  liberty.  But  my  father  was 
a  changed  man." 

"  Did  Mr.  Peter  ever  come  home  ?  " 

"Yes,  once.  He  came  home  a  lieutenant;  he  did 
not  get  to  be  admiral.  And  he  and  my  father  were 
such  friends  !  My  father  took  him  into  every  house 
in  the  parish,  he  was  so  proud  of  him.  He  never 
walked  out  without  Peter's  arm  to  lean  upon.  Deb- 
orah used  to  smile  (1  don't  think  we  ever  laughed 
again  after  my  mother's  death),  and  say  she  was  quite 
put  in  a  corner.  Not  but  what  my  father  always 
wanted  her  when  there  was  letter-writing  or  reading 
to  be  done,  or  anything  to  be  settled." 

"And  then  ?"  said  I,  after  a  pause. 

"  Then  Peter  went  to  sea  again ;  and,  by  and  by; 


POOR  PETER 


107 


"AS  {• 


"  /Je  and  my  father  were  suck  friends  !  " 

my  father  died,  blessing  us  both,  and  thanking  Deb- 
orah for  all  she  had  been  to  him ;  and,  of  course,  our 


108  CKANFORD 

circumstances  were  changed  ;  and,  instead  of  living  at 
the  rectory,  and  keeping  three  maids  and  a  man,  we 
tad  to  come  to  this  small  house,  and  be  content  with 
a  servant-of-all-work ;  but  as  Deborah  used  to  say, 
we  have  always  lived  genteelly,  even  if  circumstances 
have  compelled  us  to  simplicity.     Poor  Deborah  ! " 

"  And  Mr.  Peter  ?  "  asked  I. 

"  Oh,  there  was  some  great  war  in  India  —  1  forget 
what  they  call  it  —  and  we  have  never  heard  of  Peter 
since  then.  I  believe  he  is  dead  myself;  and  it  some- 
times fidgets  me  that  we  have  never  put  on  mourning 
for  him.  And  then  again,  when  I  sit  by  myself,  and 
all  the  house  is  still,  1  think  I  hear  his  step  coming  up 
the  street,  and  my  heart  begins  to  flutter  and  beat ; 
but  the  sound  always  goes  past  —  and  Peter  never 
comes." 

"That's  Martha  back  ?  No!  /'U  go,  my  dear;  I 
can  always  find  my  way  in  the  dark,  you  know.  And 
a  blow  of  fresh  air  at  the  door  will  do  my  head  good, 
and  it's  rather  got  a  trick  of  aching." 

So  she  pattered  off.  I  had  lighted  the  candle,  to 
give  the  room  a  cheerful  appearance  against  her  re- 
turn. 

«  Was  it  Martha  ?  "  asked  I. 

"Yes.  And  I  am  rather  uncomfortable,  for  I  heard 
such  a  strange  noise,  just  as  I  was  opening  the  door." 

"  Where  ?  "  I  asked,  for  her  eyes  were  round  with 
affright. 

"In  the  street — just  outside  —  it  sounded  like " 

"  Talking  ?  "  I  put  in,  as  she  hesitated  a  little. 

"  No !  kissing " 


^^'\FltlY\Cj 


One  morning,  as  Miss  Matty  and  I  sat  at  our  work 
—  it  was  before  twelve  o'clock,  and  Miss  Matty  had 
not  clianged  tlie  cap  with  yellow  ribbons  that  had 
been  Miss  Jenkyn's  best,  and  which  Miss  Matty  was 
now  \\:earing  out  in  private,  putting  on  the  one  made 
in  imitation  of  Mrs.  Jamieson's  at  all  times  when  she 
expected  to  be  seen  —  Martha  came  up,  and  asked  if 
Miss  Betty  Barker  might  speak  to  her  mistress.  Miss 
Matty  assented,  and  quickly  disappeared  to  change 
the  yellow  ribbons,  while  Miss  Barker  came  upstairs ; 
but,  as  she  had  forgotten  her  spectacles,  and  was  rather 
flurried  by  the  unusual  time  of  the  visit,  I  was  not 
surprised  to  see  her  return  with  one  cap  on  the  top 
of  the  other.  She  was  quite  unconscious  of  it  her- 
self, and  looked  at  us  with  bland  satisfaction.  Nor  do 
I  think  Miss  Barker  perceived  it ;  for,  putting  aside  the 
little  circumstance  that  she  was  not  so  young  as  she 
had  been,  she  was  very  much  absorbed  in  her  errand, 
which  she  delivered  herself  of  with  an  oppressive  mod- 
esty that  found  vent  in  endless  apologies. 

109 


110  CRANFORD 

Miss  Betty  Barker  was  the  daughter  of  the  old  clerk 
at  Cranford  who  had  officiated  in  Mr.  Jenkyn's  time. 
She  and  her  sister  had  had  pretty  good  situations  as 
ladies'  maids,  and  had  saved  money  enough  to  set  up 
a  milliner's  shop,  which  had  been  patronised  by  the 
ladies  in  the  neighbourhood.  Lady  Arley,  for  in- 
stance, would  occasionally  give  Miss  Barkers  the  pat- 
tern of  an  old  cap  of  hers,  which  they  immediately 
copied  and  circulated  among  the  Hite  of  Cranford. 
I  say  the  Hite,  for  Miss  Barkers  had  caught  the  trick 
of  the  place,  and  piqued  themselves  upon  their  "  aris- 
tocratic connection."  They  would  not  sell  their  caps 
and  ribbons  to  any  one  without  a  pedigree.  Many  a 
farmer's  wife  or  daughter  turned  away  huffed  from 
Miss  Barkers'  select  millinery,  and  went  rather  to 
the  universal  shop,  where  the  profits  of  brown  soap 
and  moist  sugar  enabled  the  proprietor  to  go  straight 
to  (Paris,  he  said,  until  he  found  his  customers  too 
patriotic  and  John  Bullish  to  wear  what  the  Moun- 
seers  wore)  London,  wliere,  as  he  often  told  his  cus- 
tomers. Queen  Adelaide  had  appeared,  only  the  very 
week  before,  in  a  cap  exactly  like  the  one  he  showed 
them,  trimmed  with  yellow  and  blue  ribbons,  and 
had  been  complimented  by  King  William  on  the  be- 
coming nature  of  her  head-dress. 

Miss  Barkers,  who  confined  themselves  to  truth, 
and  did  not  approve  of  miscellaneous  customers, 
throve  notwithstanding.  They  were  self-denying, 
good  people.  Many  a  time  have  I  seen  the  eldest  of 
them  (she  that  had  been  maid  to  Mrs.  Jamieson) 
carrying  out  some  delicate  mess  to  a  poor  person. 
They  only  aped  their  betters  in  having  "  nothing  to 


VISITING  111 

do"  with'  the  class  immediately  below  theirs.  And 
when  Miss  Barker  died,  their  profits  and  income 
were  found  to  be  such  that  Miss  Betty  was  justified 
in  shutting  up  shop  and  retiring  from  business.  She 
also  (as  I  think  I  have  before  said)  set  up  hgr  cow ; 
a  mark  of  respectability  in  Cranford  almost  as  decided 
as  setting  up  a  gig  is  among  some  people.  She 
dressed  finer  than  any  lady  in  Cranford ;  and  we  did 
not  wonder  at  it ;  for  it  was  understood  that  she  was 
wearing  out  all  the  bonnets  and  caps  and  outrageous 
ribbons  which  had  once  formed  her  stock-in-trade. 
It  was  five  or  six  years  since  she  had  given  up  shop, 
so  in  any  other  place  than  Cranford  her  dress  might 
have  been  considered  passte. 

And  now  Miss  Betty  Barker  had  called  to  invite 
Miss  Matty  to  tea  at  her  house  on  the  following 
Tuesday.  She  gave  me  also  an  impromptu  invita- 
tion, as  I  happened  to  be  a  visitor  —  though  I  could 
see  she  had  a  little  fear  lest,  since  my  father  had  gone 
to  live  in  Ummble,  he  might  have  engaged  in  that 
"  horrid  cotton  trade,"  and  so  dragged  his  family 
down  out  of  "  aristocratic  society."  She  prefaced 
this  invitation  with  so  many  apologies  that  she  quite 
excited  my  curiosity.  "  Her  presumption  "  was  to  be 
excused.  What  had  she  been  doing?  She  seemed 
so  overpowered  by  it,  I  could  only  think  that  she  had 
been  writing  to  Queen  Adelaide  to  ask  for  a  receipt 
for  washing  lace  ;  but  the  act  which  she  so  character- 
ised was  only  an  invitation  she  had  carried  to  her  sis- 
ter's former  mistress,  Mrs.  Jamieson.  "  Her  former 
occupation  considered,  could  Miss  Matty  excuse  the 
liberty?"     Ah  !    thought  I,  she  has  found  out  that 


112  CRANFORD 

double  cap,  and  is  going  to  rectify  Miss  Matty's 
head-dress.  No-!  it  was  simply  to  extend  her  invi- 
tation to  Miss  Matty  and  to  me.  Miss  Matty  bowed 
acceptance ;  and  I  wondered  that,  in  the  graceful 
action,  _  she  did  not  feel  •the  unusual  weight  and 
extraordinary  height  of  her  head-dress.  But  I  do 
not  think  she  did,  for  she  recovered  her  balance,  and 
went  on  talking  to  Miss  Betty  in  a  kind,  condescend- 
ing manner,  very  different  from  the  fidgety  way  she 
would  have  had  if  she  had  suspected  how  singular 
her  appearance  was. 

"Mrs.  Jamieson  is  coming,  I  think  you  said?" 
asked  Miss  Matty. 

"  Yes.  Mrs.  Jamieson  most  kindly  and  conde- 
scendingly said  she  would  be  happy  to  come.  One 
little  stipulation  she  made,  that  she  should  bring 
Carlo.  I  told  her  that  if  I  h*ad  a  weakness,  it  was 
for  dogs." 

"  And  Miss  Pole  ? "  questioned  Miss  Matty,  who 
was  thinking  of  her  pool  at  Preference,  in  which 
Carlo  would  not  be  available  as  a  partner. 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  Miss  Pole.  Of  course,  I  could 
not  think  of  asking  her  until  I  had  asked  you, 
madam  —  the  rector's  daughter,  madam.  Believe 
me,  I  do  not  forget  the  situation  my  father  held  under 
yours." 

"  And  Mrs.  Forrester,  of  course  ?  " 

"And  Mrs.  Forrester.  I  thought,  in  fact,  of  going 
to  her  before  I  went  to  Miss  Pole.  Although  her 
circumstances  are  changed,  madam,  she  was  born  a 
Tyrrell,  and  we  can  never  forget  her  alliance  to  the 
Bigges,  of  Bigelow  Hall." 


VISITING  113 

Miss  Matty  cared  much  more  for  the  little  circum- 
stance of  her  being  a  very  good  card-player. 

"  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam  —  I  suppose " 

"No,  madam.  I  must  draw  a  line  somewhere. 
Mrs.  Jamieson  would  not,  I  think,  like  to  meet  Mrs. 
Fitz-Adam.  I  have  the  greatest  respect  for  Mrs. 
Fitz-Adam  —  but  I  cannot  think  her  fit  society  for 
such  ladies  as  Mrs.  Jamieson  and  Miss  Matilda  Jen- 
kyns." 

Miss  Betty  Barker  bowed  low  to  Miss  Matty,  and 
pursed  up  her  mouth.  She  looked  at  me  with  side- 
long dignity,  as  much  as  to  say,  although  a  retired 
milliner,  she  was  no  democrat,  and  understood  the 
difference  of  ranks. 

"  May  I  beg  you  to  come  as  near  half-past  six,  to 
my  little  dwelling,  as  possible.  Miss  Matilda  ?  Mrs. 
Jamieson  dines  at  five,  but  has  kindly  promised  not 
to  delay  her  visit  beyond  that  time  —  half-past  six." 
And  with  a  swimming  curtsey  Miss  Betty  Barker 
took  her  leave. 

My  prophetic  soul  foretold  a  visit  that  afternoon 
from  Miss  Pole,  who  usually  came  to  call  on  Miss 
Matilda  after  any  event  —  or  indeed  in  sight  of  any 
event  —  to  talk  it  over  with  her. 

"  Miss  Betty  told  me  it  was  to  be  a  choice  and 
select  few,"  said  Miss  Pole,  as  she  and  Miss  Matty 
compared  notes. 

^'Yes,  so  she  said.     Not  even  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam." 

Now  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam  was  the  widowed  sister  of 
the  Cranford  surgeon,  whom  I  have  named  before. 
Their  parents  were  respectable  farmers,  content  with 
their  station.     The  name  of  these  good  people  was 


114  CRANFORD 

Hoggins.  Mr.  Hoggins  was  the  Cranford  doctor 
now ;  we  disliked  the  name  and  considered  it  coarse ; 
but,  as  Miss  Jenkyns  said,  if  he  changed  it  to  Piggins 
it  would  not  be  much  better.  We  had  hoped  to 
discover  a  relationship  between  him  and  that  Mar- 
chioness of  Exeter  whose  name  was  Molly  Hoggins ; 
but  the  man,  careless  of  his  own  interests,  utterly 
ignored  and  denied  any  such  relationship,  although, 
as  dear  Miss  Jenkyns  had  said,  he  had  a  sister  called 
Mary,  and  the  same  Christian  names  were  very  apt 
to  run  in  families. 

Soon  after  Miss  Mary  Hoggins  married  Mr.  Fitz- 
Adam  she  disappeared  from  the  neighbourhood  for 
many  years.  She  did  not  move  in  a  sphere  in  Cran- 
ford society  sufficiently  high  to  make  any  of  us  care 
to  know  what  Mr.  Fitz-Adam  was.  He  died  and 
was  gathered  to  his  fathers  without  our  ever  having 
thought  about  him  at  all.  And  then  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam 
reappeared  in  Cranford  ("as  bold  as  a  lion,"  Miss 
Pole  said),  a  well-to-do  widow,  dressed  in  rustling 
black  silk,  so  soon  after  her  husband's  death  that 
poor  Miss  Jenkyns  was  justified  in  the  remark  she 
made,  that  "  bombazine  would  have  shown  a  deeper 
sense  of  her  loss." 

I  remember  the  convocation  of  ladies  who  assem- 
bled to  decide  whether  or  not  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam  should 
be  called  upon  by  the  old  blue-blooded  inhabitants 
of  Cranford.  She  had  taken  a  large  ramljling  houje, 
which  had  been  usually  considered  to  confer  a  patent 
of  gentility  upon  its  tenant,  because,  once  upon  a 
time,  seventy  or  eighty  years  before,  the  spinster 
daughter  of  an  earl  had  resided  in  it.     I  am  not  sure 


VISITING  115 

if  the  inhabiting  this  house  was  not  also  believed  to 
convey  some  unusual  power  of  intellect ;  for  the 
earl's  daughter.  Lady  Jane,  had  a  sister,  Lady  Anne, 
who  had  married  a  general  officer  in  the  time  of  the 
American  war,  and  this  general  officer  had  written 
one  or  two  comedies,  which  were  still  acted  on  the 
London  boards,  and  which,  when  we  saw  them  adver- 
tised, made  us  all  draw  up,  and  feel  that  Drury  Lane 
was  paying  a  very  pretty  compliment  to  Cranford. 
Still,  it  was  not  at  all  a  settled  thing  that  Mrs.  Fitz- 
Adani  was  to  be  visited,  when  dear  Miss  Jenkyns 
died ;  and,  with  her,  something  of  the  clear  knowl- 
edge of  the  strict  code  of  gentility  went  out  too.  As 
Miss  Pole  observed,  "  As  most  of  the  ladies  of  good 
family  in  Cranford  were  elderly  spinsters,  or  widows 
without  children,  if  we  did  not  relax  a  little,  and 
become  less  exclusive,  by  and  by  we  should  have  no 
society  at  all." 

Mrs.  Forrester  continued  on  the  same  side. 

"  She  had  always  understood  that  Fitz  meant  some- 
thing aristocratic ;  there  was  Fitz-Roy  —  she  thought 
that  some  of  the  King's  children  had  been  called 
Fitz-Roy;  and  there  was  Fitz-Clarence  now  —  they 
were  the  children  of  dear  good  King  William  the 
Fourth.  Fitz- Adam!  —  it  was  a  pretty  name,  and 
she  thought  it  very  probably  meant  '  Child  of  Adam.' 
No  one,  who  had  not  some  good  blood  in  their  veins, 
would  dare  to  be  called  Fitz ;  there  was  a  deal  in  a 
name  —  slie  had  had  a  cousin  who  spelt  his  name 
with  two  little  ffs  —  ffoulkes — and  he  always  looked 
down  upon  capital  letters,  and  said  they  belonged  to 
lately-invented  families.      She  had  been   afraid  he 


116  CRANFORD 

would  die  a  bachelor,  he  was  so  very  choice.  When 
he  met  with  a  Mrs.  ffarringdon,  at  a  watering-place, 
he  took  to  her  immediately ;  and  a  very  pretty  gen- 
teel woman  she  was  —  a  widow,  with  a  very  good 
fortune;  and  'my  cousin,'  Mr.  ffoulkes,  married  her; 
and  it  was  all  owing  to  her  two  little  ffs." 

Mrs.  Fitz-Adam  did  not  stand  a  chance  of  meet- 
ing with  a  Mr.  Fitz-anything  in  Cranford,  so  that 
could  not  have  been  her  motive  for  settling  there. 
Miss  Matty  thought  it  might  have  been  the  hope  of 
being  admitted  into  the  society  of  the  place,  which 
would  certainly  be  a  very  agreeable  rise  for  ci-devant 
Miss  Hoggins ;  and  if  this  had  been  her  hope  it 
would  be  cruel  to  disappoint  her. 

So  everybody  called  upon  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam  — 
everybody  but  Mrs.  Jamieson,  who  used  to  show  how 
honourable  she  was  by  never  seeing  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam 
when  they  met  at  the  Cranford  parties.  There 
would  be  only  eight  or  ten  ladies  in  the  room,  and 
Mrs.  Fitz-Adam  was  the  largest  of  all,  and  she 
invariably  used  to  stand  up  when  Mrs.  Jamieson 
came  in,  and  curtsey  very  low  to  her  whenever  she 
turned  in  her  direction  —  so  low,  in  fact,  that  I  think 
Mrs.  Jamieson  must  have  looked  at  the  wall  above 
her,  for  she  never  moved  a  muscle  of  her  face,  no 
more  than  if  she  had  not  seen  her.  Still  Mrs.  Fitz- 
Adam  persevered. 

The  spring  evenings  were  getting  bright  and  long 
when  three  or  four  ladies  in  calashes  met  at  Miss 
Barker's  door.  Do  you  know  what  a  calash  is?  It 
is  a  covering  worn  over  caps,  not  unlike  the  heads 
fastened  on  old-fashioned  gigs ;  but  sometimes  it  is 


VISITING  117 

not  quite  so  large.  This  kind  of  headgear  always 
made  an  awful  impression  on  the  children  in  Cranford ; 
and  now  two  or  three  left  off  their  play  in  the  quiet, 
sunny,  little  street,  and  gathered  in  wondering  silence 
round  Miss  Pole,  Miss  Matty,  and  myself.  We  were 
silent  too,  so  that  we  could  hear  loud  suppressed 
whispers  inside  Miss  Barker's  house  :  "  Wait,  Peggy  ! 
wait  till  IVe  run  upstairs  and  washed  my  hands. 
When  I  cough,  open  the  door;  Til  not  be  a  minute.*' 
And,  true  enough,  it  was  not  a  minute  before  we 
heard  a  noise,  between  a  sneeze  and  a  crow ;  on 
which  the  door  flew  open.  Behind  it  stood  a  round- 
eyed  maiden,  all  aghast  at  the  honourable  company 
of  calashes,  who  marched  in  without  a  word.  She 
recovered  presence  of  mind  enough  to  usher  us  into  a 
small  room,  which  had  been  the  shop,  but  was  now 
converted  into  a  temporary  dressing-room.  There 
we  unpinned  and  shook  ourselves,  and  arranged  our 
features  before  the  glass  into  a  sweet  and  gracious 
company-face ;  and  then,  bowing  backwards  with 
"After  you,  ma'am,"  we  allowed  Mrs.  Forrester  to 
take  precedence  up  the  narrow  staircase  that  led  to 
Miss  Barkers  drawing-room.  There  she  sat,  as 
stately  and  composed  as  though  we  had  never  heard 
that  odd-sounding  cough,  from  which  her  throat  must 
have  been  even  then  sore  and  rough.  Kind,  gentle, 
shabbily-dressed  Mrs.  Forrester  was  immediately  con- 
ducted to  the  second  place  of  honour  —  a  seat 
arranged  something  like  Prince  Albert's  near  the 
Queen's  —  good,  but  not  so  good.  The  place  of  pre- 
eminence was,  of  course,  reserved  for  the  Honourable 
Mrs.  Jamieson,  who  presently  came  panting  up  the 


118  CRANFORD 

stairs  —  Carlo  rushing  round  her  on  her  progress,  as 
if  he  meant  to  trip  her  up. 

And  now  Miss  Betty  Barker  was  a  proud  and  happy 
woman  !  She  stirred  the  fire,  and  shut  the  door,  and 
sat  as  near  to  it  as  she  could,  quite  on  the  edge  of  her 
chair.  When  Peggy  came  in,  tottering  under  the 
weight  of  the  tea-tray,  I  noticed  that  Miss  Barker  was 
sadly  afraid  lest  Peggy  should  not  keep  her  distance 
sufficiently.  She  and  her  mistress  were  on  very 
familiar  terms  in  their  every-day  intercourse,  and 
Peggy  wanted  now  to  make  several  little  confidences 
to  her,  which  Miss  Barker  was  on  thorns  to  hear,  but 
which  she  thought  it  her  duty,  as  a  lady,  to  repress. 
So  she  turned  away  from  all  Peggy's  asides  and  signs  ; 
but  she  made  one  or  two  very  malapropos  answers  to 
what  was  said ;  and  at  last,  seized  with  a  bright  idea, 
she  exclaimed,  "  Poor,  sweet  Carlo  !  Pm  forgetting 
him.  Come  downstairs  with  me,  poor  ittie  doggie, 
and  it  shall  have  its  tea,  it  shall  ! " 

In  a  few  minutes  she  returned,  bland  and  benignant 
as  before :  but  I  thought  she  had  forgotten  to  give 
the  "  poor  ittie  doggie  "  anything  to  eat,  judging  by 
the  avidity  with  which  he  swallowed  down  chance 
pieces  of  cake.  The  tea-tray  was  abundantly  loaded 
—  I  was  pleased  to  see  it,  I  was  so  hungry ;  but  I  was 
afraid  the  ladies  present  might  think  it  vulgarly 
heaped  up.  I  know  they  would  have  done  at  their 
own  houses ;  but  somehow  the  heaps  disappeared 
here.  I  saw  Mrs.  Jamieson  eating  seed-cake,  slowly 
and  considerately,  as  she  did  everything ;  and  I  was 
rather  surprised,  for  I  knew  she  had  told  us,  on  the 
occasion  of  her  last  party,  that  she  never  had  it  in 


VISITING  119 

her  house,  it  reminded  her  so  much  of  scented  soap. 
She  always  gave  us  Savoy  biscuits.  However,  Mrs. 
Jamieson  was  kindly  indulgent  to  Miss  Barker's  want 
of  knowledge  of  the  customs  of  high  life ;  and,  to 
spare  her  feelings,  ate  three  large  pieces  of  seed-cake, 
with  a  placid,  ruminating  expression  of  countenance, 
not  unlike  a  cow's. 

After  tea  there  was  some  little  demur  and  difficulty. 
We  were  six  in  number ;  four  could  play  at  Prefer- 
ence, and  for  the  other  two  there  was  Cribbage.  But 
all,  except  myself  (I  was  rather  afraid  of  the  Cranford 
ladies  at  cards,  for  it  was  the  most  earnest  and  serious 
business  they  ever  engaged  in),  were  anxious  to  be  of 
the  "pool."  Even  Miss  Barker,  while  declaring  she 
did  not  know  Spadille  from  Manille,  was  evidently 
hankering  to  take  a  hand.  The  dilemma  was  soon 
put  an  end  to  by  a  singular  kind  of  noise.  If  a  Baron's 
daughter-in-law  could  ever  be  supposed  to  snore,  I 
should  have  said  Mrs.  Jamieson  did  so  then ;  for, 
overcome  by  the  heat  of  the  room,  and  inclined  to 
doze  by  nature,  the  temptation  of  that  very  comfort- 
able arm-chair  had  been  too  much  for  her,  and  Mrs. 
Jamieson  was  nodding.  Once  or  twice  she  opened 
her  eyes  with  an  effort,  and  calmly  but  unconsciously 
smiled  upon  us ;  but,  by  and  by,  even  her  benevo- 
lence was  not  equal  to  this  exertion,  and  she  was 
sound  asleep. 

"  It  is  very  gratifying  to  me,"  whispered  Miss  Bar- 
ker at  the  card-table  to  her  three  opponents,  whom, 
notwithstanding  her  ignorance  of  the  game,  ste  was 
" basting "  most  unmercifully  —  "very  gratifying  in- 
deed, to  see  how  completely  Mrs.  Jamieson  feels  at 


120 


CRANFORD 


home  in  my  poor  little  dwelling ;  she  could  not  have 
paid  me  a  greater  compliment." 

Miss  Barker  provided  me  with  some  literature  in 
the  shape  of  three  or  four  handsomely-bound  fashion- 
books  ten  or  twelve  years  old,  observing,  as  she  put  a 
little  table  and  a  candle  for  my  especial  benefit,  that 
she   knew  young  people  liked  to  look  at  pictures. 


"  Hush,  ladies!  if  you  please,  hush/ 


Carlo  lay  and  snorted,  and  started  at  his  mistress's 
feet.     He,  too,  was  quite  at  home. 

The  card-table  was  an  animated  scene  to  watch ; 
four  ladies'  heads,  with  niddle-noddling  caps,  all 
nearly  meeting  over  the  middle  of  the  table  in  their 
eagerness  to  whisper  quick  enough  and  loud  enough : 
and  every  now  and  then  came  Miss  Barker's  "  Hush, 
ladies!  if  you  please,  hush!  Mrs.  Jamieson  is  asleep." 

It  was  very  difficult  to  steer  clear  between  Mrs. 


VISITING  121 

Forrester's  deafness  and  Mrs.  Jamieson's  sleepiness. 
But  Miss  Barker  managed  her  arduous  task  well. 
She  repeated  the  whisper  to  Mrs.  Forrester,  distorting 
her  face  considerably,  in  order  to  show,  by  the  mo- 
tions of  her  lips,  what  was  said  ;  and  then  she  smiled 
kindly  all  round  at  us,  and  murmured  to  herself, 
"  Ver\'  gratifying  indeed ;  I  wish  my  poor  sister  had 
been  alive  to  see  this  day." 

Presently  the  door  was  thrown  wide  open ;  Carlo 
started  to  his  feet,  with  a  loud  snapping  bark,  and 
Mrs.  Jamieson  awoke ;  or,  perhaps,  she  had  not  been 
asleep  —  as  she  said  almost  directly,  th«  room  had 
been  so  light  she  had  been  glad  to  keep  her  eyes 
shut,  but  had  been  listening  with  great  interest  to  all 
our  amusing  and  agreeable  conversation.  Peggy 
came  in  once  more,  red  with  importance.  Another 
tray!  " Oh,  gentility ! "  thought  I,  "can  you  endure 
this  last  shock  ? "  For  Miss  Barker  had  ordered 
(nay,  I  doubt  not,  prepared,  although  she  did  say, 
"Why!  Peggy,  what  have  you  brought  us?"  and 
looked  pleasantly  surprised  at  the  unexpected  pleasure) 
all  sorts  of  good  things  for  supper  —  scalloped  oysters, 
potted  lobsters,  jelly,  a  dish  called  "  little  Cupids " 
(which  was  in  great  favour  with  the  Cranford  ladies, 
although  too  expensive  to  be  given,  except  on  solemn 
and  state  occasions  —  macaroons  sopped  in  brandy, 
I  should  have  called  it,  if  I  had  not  known  its  more 
refined  and  classical  name).  In  short,  we  were 
evidently  to  be  feasted  with  all  that  was  sweetest  and 
best ;  and  we  thought  it  better  to  submit  graciously, 
even  at  the  cost  of  our  gentility  —  which  never 
ate  suppers  in  general,  but   which,  like   most   non- 


122  CRANFORD 

supper-eaters,  was  particularly  hungry  on  all  special 
occasions. 

Miss  Barker,  in  her  former  sphere,  had,  I  daresay, 
been  made  acquainted  with  the  beverage  they  call 
cherry-brandy.  We  none  of  us  had  ever  seen  such  a 
thing,  and  rather  shrank  back  when  she  proffered  it 
us  —  "just  a  little,  leetle  glass,  ladies  ;  after  the  oysters 
and  lobsters,  you  know.  Shell-fish  are  sometimes 
thought  not  very  wholesome."  We  all  shook  our 
heads  like  female  mandarins;  but,  at  last,  Mrs. 
Jamieson  suffered  herself  to  be  persuaded,  and  we 
followed  her  lead.  It  was  not  exactly  unpalatable, 
though  so  hot  and  so  strong  that  we  thought  our- 
selves bound  to  give  evidence  that  we  were  not  accus- 
tomed to  such  things  by  coughing  terribly  —  almost 
as  strangely  as  Miss  Barker  had  done,  before  we  were 
admitted  by  Peggy. 

"  It's  very  strong,"  said  Miss  Pole,  as  she  put 
down  her  empty  glass ;  "I  do  believe  there's  spirit 
in  it." 

"Only  a  little  drop  —  just  necessary  to  make  it 
keep,"  said  Miss  Barker.  "  You  know  we  put  brandy- 
paper  over  preserves  to  make  them  keep.  I  often  feel 
tipsy  myself  from  eating  damson  tart." 

I  question  whether  damson  tart  would  have  opened 
Mrs.  Jamieson's  heart  as  the  cherry-brandy  did  ;  but 
she  told  us  of  a  coming  event,  respecting  which  she 
had  been  quite  silent  till  that  moment. 

"My  sister-in-law.  Lady  Glenmire,  is  coming  to 
stay  with  me." 

There  was  a  chorus  of  "Indeed!"  and  then  a 
pause.     Each   one   rapidly   reviewed   her   wardrobe, 


VISITING  123 

as  to  its  fitness  to  appear  in  the  presence  of  a  Baron's 
widow  ;  for,  of  course,  a  series  of  small  festivals  were 
always  held  in  Cranford  on  the  arrival  of  a  visitor  at 
any  of  our  friends'  houses.  We  felt  very  pleasantly 
excited  on  the  present  occasion. 

Not  long  after  this  the  maids  and  the  lanterns  were 
announced.  Mrs.  Jamieson  had  the  sedan  chair, 
which  had  squeezed  itself  into  Miss  Barker's  narrow 
lobby  with  some  difficulty,  and  most  literally  "  stopped 
the  way."  It  required  some  skilful  manoeuvring  on 
the  part  of  the  old  chairmen  (shoemakers  by  day, 
but  when  summoned  to  carry  the  sedan  dressed  up  in 
a  strange  old  livery  —  long  greatcoats,  with  small 
capes,  coeval  with  the  sedan,  and  similar  to  the  dress 
of  the  class  in  Hogarth's  pictures)  to  edge,  and  back, 
and  try  at  it  again,  and  finally  to  succeed  in  carrying 
their  burden  out  of  Miss  Barker's  front  door.  Then 
we  heard  their  quick  pit-a-pat  along  the  quiet  little 
street  as  we  put  on  our  calashes  and  pinned  up  our 
gowns ;  Miss  Barker  hovering  about  us  with  offers  of 
help,  which,  if  she  had  not  remembered  her  former 
occupation,  and  wished  us  to  forget  it,  would  have 
been  much  more  pressing. 


VouV  la<rKyy/u(^ 


Early  tne  next  morning  —  directly  after  twelve  — 
Miss  Pole  made  her  appearance  at  Miss  Matty's. 
Some  very  trifling  piece  of  business  was  alleged  as  a 
reason  for  the  call ;  but  there  was  evidently  some- 
thing behind.     At  last  out  it  came. 

"  By  the  way,  you'll  think  I'm  strangely  ignorant ; 
but,  do  you  really  know,  I  am  puzzled  how  we  ought 
to  address  Lady  Glenmire.  Do  you  say  '  Your  Lady- 
ship,' where  you  would  say  '  you '  to  a  common  per- 
son? I  have  been  puzzling  all  morning;  and  are  we 
to  say  '  My  Lady,'  instead  of  '  Ma'am '  ?  Now  you 
knew  Lady  Arley  —  will  you  kindly  tell  me  the  most 
correct  way  of  speaking  to  the  Peerage  ?  " 

Poor  Miss  Matty  !  she  took  off  her  spectacles  and 
she  put  them  on  agaip  —  but  how  Lady  Arley  was 
addressed,  she  could  not  remember. 
124 


"YOUR  LADYSHIP"  125 

"  It  is  so  long  ago,"  she  said.  "  Dear!  dear!  how 
stupid  I  am  !  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  her  more  than 
twice.  I  know  we  use  to  call  Sir  Peter,  '  Sir  Peter' 
—  but  he  came  much  oftener  to  see  us  than  Lady 
Arley  did.  Deborah  would  have  known  in  a  minute. 
'  My  lady '  — '  your  ladyship.'  It  sounds  very  strange, 
and  as  if  it  was  not  natural.  I  never  thought  of  it 
before ;  but,  now  you  have  named  it,  I  am  all  in  a 
puzzle." 

It  was  very  certain  Miss  Pole  would  obtain  no  wise 
decision  from  Miss  Matty,  who  got  more  bewildered 
every  moment,  and  more  perplexed  as  to  etiquettes 
of  address. 

"Well,  I  really  think,"  said  Miss  Pole,  "  I  had 
better  just  go  and  tell  Mrs.  Fontster  about  our  little 
difficulty.  One  sometimes  grows  nervous ;  and  yet 
one  would  not  have  Lady  Glenmire  think  we  were 
quite  ignorant  of  the  etiquettes  of  high  life  in  Cran- 
ford." 

'•  And  will  you  just  step  in  here,  dear  Miss  Pole, 
as  you  come  back,  please,  and  tell  me  what  you  de- 
cide upon?  Whatever  you  and  Mrs.  Forrester  fix 
upon,  will  be  quite  right,  I'm  sure.  'Lady  Arley,' 
*  Sir  Peter,' "  said  Miss  Matty  to  herself,  trying  to 
recall  the  old  forms  of  words. 

"  Who  is  Lady  Glenmire?  "  asked  I. 

"Oh,  she's  the  widow  of  Mr.  Jamieson  —  that's 
Mrs.  Jamieson's  late  husband,  you  know  —  widow  of 
his  eldest  brother.  Mrs.  Jamieson  was  a  Miss 
Walker,  daughter  of  Governor  Walker.  '  Your  lady- 
ship.' My  dear,  if  they  fix  on  that  way  of  speaking, 
you  must  just  let  me  practise  a  little  on  you  first,  for 


126  CRANFORD 

I  shall  feel  so  foolish  and  hot  saying  it  the  first  time 
to  Lady  Glenmire." 

It  was  really  a  relief  to  Miss  Matty  when  Mrs. 
Jamieson  came  on  a  very  unpolite  errand.  I  notice 
that  apathetic  people  have  more  quiet  impertinence 
than  others ;  and  Mrs.  Jamieson  came  now  to  insin- 
uate pretty  plainly  that  she  did  not  particularly  wisli 
that  the  Cranford  ladies  should  call  upon  her  sister- 
in-law.  I  can  hardly  say  how  she  made  this  clear ; 
for  I  grew  very  indignant  and  warm,  while  with  slow 
deliberation  she  was  explaining  her  wishes  to  Miss 
Matty,  who,  a  true  lady  herself,  could  hardly  under- 
stand the  feeling  which  made  Mrs.  Jamieson  wish  to 
appear  to  her  noble  sister-in-law  as  if  she  only  visited 
"county"  families.  Miss  Matty  remained  puzzled 
and  perplexed  long  after  I  had  found  out  the  object 
of  Mrs.  Jamieson's  visit. 

When  she  did  understand  the  drift  of  the  honoura- 
ble lady's  call,  it  was  pretty  to  see  with  what  quiet 
dignity  she  received  the  intimation  thus  uncourte- 
ously  given.  She  was  not  in  the  least  hurt  —  she 
was  of  too  gentle  a  spirit  for  that ;  nor  was  she  ex- 
actly conscious  of  disapproving  of  Mrs.  Jamieson's 
conduct ;  but  there  was  something  of  this  feeling  in 
her  mind,  I  am  sure,  which  made  her  pass  from  the 
subject  to  others  in  a  less  flurried  and  more  composed 
manner  than  usual.  Mrs.  Jamieson  was,  indeed,  the 
more  flurried  of  the  two,  and  I  could  see  she  was  glad 
to  take  her  leave. 

A  little  while  afterwards  Miss  Pole  returned,  red 
and  indignant.  "  Well !  to  be  sure  !  You've  had 
Mrs.  Jamieson  here,  I  find  from  Martha;  and  we  are 


"YOUR   LADYSHIP"  \11 

not  to  call  on  Lady  Glenmire.  Yes  !  I  met  Mrs. 
Jamieson,  half-way  between  here  and  Mrs.  Forres- 
ter's, and  she  told  me ;  she  took  me  so  by  surprise, 
I  had  nothing  to  say.  I  wish  I  had  thought  of  some- 
thing very  sharp  and  sarcastic ;  I  daresay  I  shall  to- 
night. And  Lady  Glenmire  is  but  the  widow  of  a 
Scotch  baron  after  all !  I  went  on  to  look  at  Mrs. 
Forrester's  Peerage,  to  see  who  this  lady  was,  that  is 
to  be  kept  under  a  glass  case :  widow  of  a  Scotch 
peer  —  never  sat  in  the  House  of  Lords  —  and  as 
poor  as  Job,  I  daresay;  and  she  —  fifth  daughter  of 
some  Mr.  Campbell  or  other.  You  are  the  daughter 
of  a  rector,  at  any  rate,  and  related  to  the  Arleys ; 
and  Sir  Peter  might  have  been  Viscount  Arley,  every 
one  says." 

Miss  Matty  tried  to  soothe  Miss  Pole,  but  in  vain. 
That  lady,  usually  so  kind  and  good-humoured,  was 
now  in  a  full  flow  of  anger. 

"And  I  went  and  ordered  a  cap  this  morning,  to 
be  quite  ready,"  said  she,  at  last  letting  out  the 
secret  which  gave  sting  to  Mrs.  Jamieson's  intima- 
tion. "  Mrs.  Jamieson  shall  see  if  it  is  so  easy  to  get 
me  to  make  fourth  at  a  pool  when  she  has  none  of 
her  fine  Scotch  relations  with  her  !  " 

In  coming  out  of  church,  the  first  Sunday  on  which 
Lady  Glenmire  appeared  in  Cranford,  we  sedulously 
talked  together,  and  turned  our  backs  on  Mrs.  Jam- 
ieson and  her  guest.  If  we  might  not  call  on  her, 
we  would  not  even  look  at  her,  though  we  were  dying 
with  curiosity  to  know  what  she  was  like.  We  had 
the  comfort  of  questioning  Martha  in  the  afternoon. 
Martha  did  not  belong  to  a  sphere  of  society  whose 


128  CRANFORD 

observation  could  be  an  implied  compliment  to  Lady 
Glenmire,  and  Martha  had  made  good  use  of  her 
eyes. 

"  Well,  ma'am  !  is  it  the  little  lady  with  Mrs.  Jam- 
ieson,  you  mean?  I  thought  you  would  like  more  to 
know  how  young  Mrs.  Smith  was  dressed,  her  being 
a  bride."     (Mrs.  Smith  was  the  butcher's  wife.) 

Miss  Pole  said,  '■'  Good  gracious  me  !  as  if  we 
cared  about  a  Mrs.  Smith  ;  "  but  was  silent  as  Martha 
resumed  her  speech. 

"The  little  lady  in  Mrs.  Jamieson's  pew  had  on, 
ma'am,  rather  an  old  black  silk,  and  a  shepherd's 
plaid  cloak,  ma'am,  and  very  bright  black  eyes  she 
had,  ma'am,  and  a  pleasant,  sharp  face ;  not  over 
young,  ma'am,  but  yet,  I  should  guess,  younger  than 
Mrs.  Jamieson  herself.  She  looked  up  and  down  the 
church,  like  a  bird,  and  nipped  up  her  petticoats,  when 
she  came  out,  as  quick  and  sharp  as  ever  I  see.  I'D 
tell  you  what,  ma'am,  she's  more  like  Mrs.  Deacon, 
at  the  'Coach  and  Horses,'  nor  any  one." 

"Hush,  Martha!"  said  Miss  Matty,  "that's  not 
respectful." 

"Isn't  it,  ma'am?  I  beg  pardon,  I'm  sure;  but 
Jem  Hearn  said  so  as  well.  He  .said,  she  was  just 
such  a  sharp  stirring  sort  of  a  body ^' 

"  Lady,"  said  Miss  Pole. 

"Lady  —  as  Mrs.  Deacon." 

Another  Sunday  passed  away,  and  we  still  averted 
our  eyes  from  Mrs.  Jamieson  and  her  guest,  and 
made  remarks  to  ourselves  that  we  thought  were  very 
severe  —  almost  too  much  so.  Miss  Matty  was  evi- 
dently uneasy  at  our  sarcastic  manner  of  speaking. 


''YOUR  LADYSHIP"  129 

Perhaps  by  this  time  Lady  Glenmire  had  found  out 
that  Mrs.  Jamieson's  was  not  the  gayest,  liveliest 
house  in  the  world ;  perhaps  Mrs.  Jamieson  had 
found  out  that  most  of  the  county  families  were  in 
London,  and  that  those  who  remained  in  the  country 
were  not  so  alive  as  they  might  have  been  to  the  cir- 
cumstance of  Lady  Glenmire  being  in  their  neighbour- 
hood. Great  events  spring  out  of  small  causes  ;  so  I 
will  not  pretend  to  say  what  induced  Mrs.  Jamieson 
to  alter  her  determination  of  excluding  the  Cranford 
ladies,  and  send  notes  of  invitation  all  round  for  a 
small  party  on  the  following  Tuesday.  Mr.  Mulliner 
himself  brought  them  round.  He  would  always 
ignore  the  fact  of  there  being  a  back-door  to  any 
house,  and  gave  a  louder  rat-tat  than  his  mistress, 
Mrs.  Jamieson.  He  had  three  little  notes,  which  he 
carried  in  a  large  basket,  in  order  to  impress  his  mis- 
tress with  an  idea  of  their  great  weight,  though  they 
might  easily  have  gone  into  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

Miss  Matty  and  I  quietly  decided  we  would 
have  a  previous  engagement  at  home  :  it  was  the 
evening  on  which  Miss  Matty  usually  made  candle- 
lighters  of  all  the  notes  and  letters  of  the  week  ;  for 
on  Mondays  her  accounts  were  always  made  straight 
—  not  a  penny  owing  from  the  week  before ;  so,  by  a 
natural  arrangement,  making  candle-lighters  fell  upon 
a  Tuesday  evening,  and  gave  us  a  legitimate  excuse 
for  declining  Mrs.  Jamieson's  invitation.  But  before 
our  answer  was  written,  in  came  Miss  Pole,  with  an 
open  note  in  her  hand. 

"So! "she  said.  "Ah!  I  see  you  have  got  your 
note  too.     Better  late  than  never.     I  could  have  told 


130 


CRANFORD 


Mr.  Miilliner. 


my  Lady  Glenmire  she  would  be  glad  enough  of  our 
society  before  a  fortnight  was  over." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Matty,  "  weVe  asked  for  Tuesday 
evening.  And  perhaps  you  would  just  kindly  bring 
your  work  across  and  drink  tea  with  us  that  night. 


"YOUR  LADYSHIP"  131 

It  is  my  usual  regular  time  for  looking  over  the  last 
week's  bills,  and  notes,  and  letters,  and  making 
candle-lighters  of  them ;  but  that  does  not  seem 
quite  reason  enough  for  saying  I  have  a  previous 
engagement  at  home,  though  I  meant  to  make 
it  do.  Now,  if  you  would  come,  my  conscience 
would  be  quite  at  ease,  and  luckily  the  note  is  not 
written  yet." 

I  saw  Miss  Pole's  countenance  change  while  Miss 
Matty  was  speaking. 

"  Don't  you  mean  to  go  then?  "  asked  she. 

"  Oh  no!"  said  Miss  Matty  quietly.  "  You  don't 
either,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Miss  Pole.  "  Yes,  I  think 
I  do,"  said  she  rather  briskly ;  and  on  seeing  Miss 
Matty  look  surprised,  she  added,  "  You  see,  one 
would  not  like  Mrs.  Jamieson  to  think  that  anything 
siie  could  do,  or  say,  was  of  consequence  enough  to 
give  offence  ;  it  would  be  kind  of  letting  down  of  our- 
selves, that  I,  for  one,  should  not  like.  It  would  be 
too  flattering  to  Mrs.  Jamieson  if  we  allowed  her  to 
suppose  that  what  she  had  said  affected  us  a  week, 
nay,  ten  days  afterwards." 

"Well!  I  suppose  it  is  wrong  to  be  hurt  and  an- 
noyed so  long  about  anything ;  and,  perhaps,  after 
all,  she  did  not  mean  to  vex  us.  But  I  must  say  I 
could  not  have  brought  myself  to  say  the  things  Mrs. 
Jamieson  did  about  our  not  calling.  I  really  don't 
think  I  shall  go." 

"  Oh,  come!  Miss  Matty,  you  must  go;  you  know 
our  friend  Mrs.  Jamieson  is  much  more  phlegmatic 
than  most  people,  and  does  not  enter  into  the  little 


132  CRANFORD 

delicacies  of  feeling  which  you  possess  in  so  remark' 
able  a  degree." 

"  I  thought  you  possessed  them  too,  that  day  Mrs, 
Jamieson  called  to  tell  us  not  to  go,"  said  Miss 
Matty  innocently. 

But  Miss  Pole,  in  addition  to  her  delicacies  of  feel- 
ing, possessed  a  very  smart  cap,  which  she  was 
anxious  to  show  to  an  admiring  world ;  and  so  she 
seemed  to  forget  all  her  angry  words  uttered  not  a 
fortnight  before,  and  to  be  ready  to  act  on  what  she 
called  the  great  Christian  principle  of  "  Forgive  and 
forget " ;  and  she  lectured  dear  Miss  Matty  so  long  on 
this  head  that  she  absolutely  ended  by  assuring  her 
it  was  her  duty,  as  a  deceased  rector's  daughter,  to 
buy  a  new  cap  and  go  to  the  party  at  Mrs.  Jamieson's. 
So  "  we  were  most  happy  to  accept,"  instead  of  "  re- 
gretting that  we  were  obliged  to  decline." 

The  expenditure  on  dress  in  Cranford  was  princi- 
pally in  that  one  article  referred  to.  If  the  heads 
were  buried  in  smart  new  caps,  the  ladies  were  like 
ostriches,  and  cared  not  what  became  of  their  bodies. 
Old  gowns,  white  and  venerable  collars,  any  number 
of  brooches,  up  and  down  and  everywhere  (some  with 
dogs'  eyes  painted  in  them ;  some  that  were  like 
small  picture-frames  with  mausoleums  and  weeping- 
willows  neatly  executed  in  hair  inside  ;  some,  again, 
with  miniatures  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  sweetly 
smiling  out  of  a  nest  of  stiff  muslin),  old  brooches 
for  a  permanent  ornament,  and  new  caps  to  suit  the 
fashion  of  the  day  —  the  ladies  of  Cranford  always 
dressed  with  chaste  elegance  and  propriety,  as  Miss 
Barker  once  prettily  expressed  it. 


"YOUR  LADYSHIP''  133 

And  with  three  new  caps,  and  a  greater  array  of 
brooches  than  had  ever  been  seen  together  at  one  time 
since  Cranford  was  a  town,  did  Mrs.  Forrester,  and 
Miss  Matty,  and  Miss  Pole  appear  on  that  memorable 
Tuesday  evening.  I  counted  seven  brooches  myself  on 
Miss  Pole's  dress.  Two  were  fixed  negligently  in  her 
cap  (one  was  a  butterfly  made  of  Scotch  pebbles,  which 
a  vivid  imagination  might  believe  to  be  the  real  insect); 
one  fastened  her  net  neckerchief;  one  her  collar;  one 
ornamented  the  front  of  her  gown,  midway  between 
her  throat  and  waist ;  and  another  adorned  the  point 
of  her  stomacher.  Where  the  seventh  was  I  have 
forgotten,  but  it  was  somewhere  about  her,  I  am  sure. 

But  I  am  getting  on  too  fast,  in  describing  the  dresses 
of  the  company.  I  should  first  relate  the  gathering  on 
the  way  to  Mrs.  Jamieson's.  That  lady  lived  in  a  large 
house  just  outside  the  town,  A  road  which  had  known 
what  it  was  to  be  a  street  ran  right  before  the  house, 
which  opened  out  upon  it  without  any  intervening 
garden  or  court.  Whatever  the  sun  was  about,  he 
never  shone  on  the  front  of  that  house.  To  be  sure, 
the  living  rooms  were  at  the  back,  looking  on  to  a 
pleasant  garden  ;  the  front  windows  only  belonged  to 
kitchens  and  housekeepers'  rooms  and  pantries,  and 
in  one  of  them  Mr.  Mulliner  was  reported  to  sit.  In- 
deed, looking  askance,  we  often  saw  the  back  of  a 
head  covered  with  hair-powder,  which  also  extended 
itself  over  his  coat-collar  down  to  his  very  waist ;  and 
this  imposing  back  was  always  engaged  in  reading  the 
St.  'James's  Chronicle,  opened  wide,  which,  in  some 
degree,  accounted  for  the  length  of  time  the  said  news- 
paper was  in  reaching  us  —  equal   subscribers    with 


134  CRANFORD 

Mrs.  Jamieson,  though,  in  right  of  her  honourableness, 
she  always  had  the  reading  of  it  first.  This  very 
Tuesday,  the  delay  in  forwarding  the  last  number  had 
been  particularly  aggravating;  just  when  both  Miss 
Pole  and  Miss  Matty,  the  former  more  especially,  had 
been  wanting  to  see  it,  in  order  to  coach  up  the  court 
news  ready  for  the  evening's  interview  with  the  aris- 
tocracy. Miss  Pole  told  us  she  had  absolutely  taken 
time  by  the  forelock,  and  been  dressed  by  five  o'clock, 
in  order  to  be  ready  if  the  St.  'James's  Chronicle  should 
come  in  at  the  last  moment  —  the  very  St.  yavtes's 
Chronicle  which  the  powdered  head  was  tranquilly  and 
composedly  reading  as  we  passed  the  accustomed 
window  this  evening. 

"The  impudence  of  the  man  !"  said  Miss  Pole,  in 
a  low  indignant  whisper.  "  I  should  liTce  to  ask  him 
whether  his  mistress  pays  her  quarter-share  for  his 
exclusive  use." 

We  looked  at  her  in  admiration  of  the  courage  of 
her  thought ;  for  Mr.  Mulliner  was  an  object  of  great 
awe  to  all  of  us.  He  seemed  never  to  have  forgotten 
his  condescension  in  coming  to  live  at  Cranford.  Miss 
Jenkyns,  at  times,  had  stood  forth  as  the  undaunted 
champion  of  her  sex,  and  spoken  to  him  on  terms  of 
equality ;  but  even  Miss  Jenkyns  could  get  no  higher. 
In  his  pleasantest  and  most  gracious  moods  he  looked 
like  a  sulky  cockatoo.  He  did  not  speak  except  in 
gruff  monosyllables.  He  would  wait  in  the  hall  when 
we  begged  him  not  to  wait,  and  then  look  deeply 
offended  because  we  had  kept  him  there,  while,  with 
trembling  hasty  hands  we  prepared  ourselves  for 
appearing  in  company. 


"YOUR  LADYSHIP"  135 

Miss  Pole  ventured  on  a  small  joke  as  v.e  went 
upstairs,  intended,  though  addressed  to  us,  to  afford 
Mr.  Mulliner  some  slight  amusement.  We  all  smiled, 
in  order  to  seem  as  if  we  felt  at  our  ease,  and 
timidly  looked  for  Mr.  Mulliner's  sympathy.  Not  a 
muscle  of  that  wooden  face  had  relaxed ;  and  we  were 
grave  in  an  instant. 

Mrs.  Jamieson's  drawing-room  was  cheerful ;  the 
evening  sun  came  streaming  into  it,  and  the  large 
square  window  was  clustered  round  with  flowers.  The 
furniture  was  white  and  gold ;  not  the  later  style, 
Louis  Quatorze,  I  think  they  call  it,  all  shells  and 
twirls ;  no,  Mrs.  Jamieson's  chairs  and  tables  had  not 
a  curve  or  bend  about  them.  The  chair  and  table 
legs  diminished  as  they  neared  the  ground,  and  were 
straight  and  square  in  all  their  corners.  The  chairs 
were  all  a-row  against  the  walls,  with  the  exception  of 
four  or  five,  which  stood  in  a  circle  round  the  fire. 
They  were  railed  with  white  bars  across  the  back,  and 
nobbed  with  gold  :  neither  the  railings  nor  the  nobs 
invited  to  ease.  There  was  a  japanned  table  devoted 
to  literature,  on  which  lay  a  Bible,  a  Peerage,  and  a 
PrayerTBook.  There  was  another  square  Pembroke 
table  dedicated  to  the  Fine  Arts,  on  which  were  a 
kaleidoscope,  conversation-cards,  puzzle-cards  (tied 
together  to  an  interminable  length  with  faded  pink 
satin  ribbon),  and  a  box  painted  in  fond  imitation  of 
the  drawings  which  decorate  tea-chests.  Carlo  lay 
on  the  worsted-worked  rug,  and  ungraciously  barked 
at  us  as  we  entered.  Mrs.  Jamieson  stood  up,  giving 
us  each  a  torpid  smile  of  welcome,  and  looking  help- 
lessly beyond  us  at  Mr.  Mulliner,  as  if  she  hoped  he 


136  CRANFORD 

would  place  us  in  chairs,  for,  if  he  did  not,  she  never 
could.  I  suppose  he  thought  we  could  find  our  way 
to  the  circle  round  the  fire,  which  reminded  me  of 
Stonehenge,  I  don't  know  why.  Lady  Glenmire  came 
to  the  rescue  of  our  hostess,  and,  somehow  or  other, 
we  found  ourselves  for  the  first  time  placed  agreeably, 
and  not  formally,  in  Mrs.  Jamieson's  house.  Lady 
Glenmire,  now  we  had  time  to  look  at  her,  proved  to 
be  a  bright  little  woman  of  middle  age,  who  had  been 
very  pretty  in  the  days  of  her  youth,  and  who  was 
even  yet  very  pleasant-looking.  I  saw  Miss  Pole 
appraising  her  .dress  in  the  first  five  minutes,  and  I 
take  her  word  when  she  said  the  next  day  — 

"  My  dear  !  ten  pounds  would  have  purchased 
every  stitch  she  had  on  —  lace  and  all." 

It  was  pleasant  to  suspect  that  a  peeress  could  be 
poor,  and  partly  reconciled  us  to  the  fact  that  her 
husband  had  never  sat  in  the  House  of  Lords ;  which, 
when  we  first  heard  of  it,  seemed  a  kind  of  swindling 
us  out  of  our  respect  on  false  pretences  ;  a  sort  of ''  A 
Lord  and  No  Lord"  business. 

We  were  all  very  silent  at  first.  We  were  thinking 
what  we  could  talk  about,  that  should  be  high  enough 
to  interest  My  Lady.  There  had  been  a  rise  in  the 
price  of  sugar,  which,  as  preserving-time  was  near, 
was  a  piece  of  intelligence  to  all  our  housekeeping 
hearts,  and  would  have  been  the  natural  topic  if  Lady 
Glenmire  had  not  been  by.  But  .we  were  not  sure  if 
the  peerage  ate  preserves  —  much  less  knew  how  they 
were  made.  At  last,  Miss  Pole,  who  had  always  a 
great  deal  of  courage  and  savoir  faire,  spoke  to 
Lady  Glenmire,  who  on  her  part  had  seemed  just 


"YOUR  LADYSHIP"  137 

as  much  puzzled  to  know  how  to  break  the  silence  as 
we  were. 

"  Has  your  ladyship  been  to  Court  lately  ?  "  asked 
she ;  and  then  gave  a  little  glance  round  at  us,  half 
timid  and  half  triumphant,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  See 
how  judiciously  I  have  chosen  a  subject  befitting  the 
rank  of  the  stranger." 

''  I  never  was  there  in  my  life,"  said  Lady  Glenmire, 
with  a  broad  Scotch  accent,  but  in  a  very  sweet  voice. 
And  then,  as  if  she  had  been  too  abrupt,  she  added  : 
"We  very  seldom  went  to  London  —  only  twice,  in 
fact,  during  all  my  married  life ;  and  before  I  was 
married  my  father  had  far  too  large  a  family "  (fifth 
daughter  of  Mr.  Campbell  was  in  all  our  minds,  I  am 
sure)  "  to  take  us  often  from  our  home,  even  to  Edin- 
burgh. Ye'U  have  been  in  Edinburgh,  maybe?" 
said  she,  suddenly  brightening  up  with  the  hope  of  a 
common  interest.  We  had  none  of  us  been  there ; 
but  Miss  Pole  had  an  uncle  who  once  had  passed  a 
night  there,  which  was  very  pleasant. 

Mrs.  Jamieson,  meanwhile,  was  absorbed  in  wonder 
why  Mr.  Mulliner  did  not  bring  the  tea ;  and  at  length 
the  wonder  oozed  out  of  her  mouth. 

'•  I  had  better  ring  the  bell,  my  dear,  had  not  I  ?  " 
said  Lady  Glenmire  briskly. 

"  No  —  I  think  not  —  Mulliner  does  not  like  to  be 
hurried." 

We  should  have  liked  our  tea,  for  we  dined  at  an 
earlier  hour  than  Mrs.  Jamieson.  1  suspect  Mr.  Mul- 
liner had  to  finish  the  St.  yames's  Chronicle  before 
he  chose  to  trouble  himself  about  tea.  His  mistress 
fidgeted  and  fidgeted,  and  kept  saying,  "  I  can't  think 


138  CRANFORD 

why  Mulliner  does  not  bring  tea.  I  can't  think  what 
he  can  be  about."  And  Lady  Glenmire  at  last  grew 
quite  impatient,  but  it  was  a  pretty  kind  of  impatience 
after  all ;  and  she  rang  the  bell  rather  sharply,  on  re- 
ceiving a  half-permission  from  her  sister-in-law  to  do 
so.  Mr.  Mulliner  appeared  in  dignified  surprise. 
"Oh  ! "  said  Mrs.  Jamieson, "  Lady  Glenmire  rang  the 
bell ;  1  believe  it  was  for  tea." 

In  a  few  minutes  tea  was  brought.  Very  delicate 
was  the  china,  very  old  the  plate,  very  thin  the  bread 
and  butter,  and  very  small  the  lumps  of  sugar.  Sugar 
was  evidently  Mrs.  Jamieson's  favourite  economy.  I 
question  if  the  little  filigree  sugar-tongs,  made  some- 
thing like  scissors,  could  have  opened  themselves  wide 
enough  to  take  up  an  honest,  vulgar,  good-sized  piece ; 
and  when  I  tried  to  seize  two  little  minnikin  pieces  at 
once,  so  as  not  to  be  detected  in  too  many  returns  to 
the  sugar-basin,  they  absolutely  dropped  one,  with  a 
little  shaqD  clatter,  quite  in  a  malicious  and  imnatural 
manner.  But  before  this  happened,  we  had  had  a  sliglit 
disappointment.  In  the  little  silver  jug  was  cream, 
in  the  larger  one  was  milk.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Mulliner 
came  in,  Carlo  began  to  beg,  which  was  a  thing  our 
manners  forbade  us  to  do,  though  I  am  sure  we  were 
just  as  hungry;  and  Mrs.  Jamieson  said  she  was  cer- 
tain we  would  excuse  her  if  she  gave  her  poor  dumb 
Carlo  his  tea  first.  She  accordingly  mixed  a  saucer- 
ful  for  him,  and  put  it  down  for  him  to  lap ;  and  then 
she  told  us  how  intelligent  and  sensible  the  dear  little 
fellow  was ;  he  knew  cream  quite  well,  and  constantly 
refused  tea  with  only  milk  in  it ;  so  the  milk  was  left 
for  us  ;  but  we  silently  thought  we  were  quite  as  in' 


■YOUR  LADYSHIP'' 


139 


"  In  dignified  surprise" 


telUgent  and  sensible  as  Carlo,  and  felt  as  if  insult 
were  added  to  injury  when  we  were  called  upon  to 
admire  the  gratitude  evinced  by  his  wagging  his  tail 
for  the  cream  which  should  have  been  ours. 


14U  C KAN  FORD 

After  tea  we  thawed  down  into  common  life-sub- 
jects. We  were  thankful  to  Lady  Glenmire  for  having 
proposed  some  more  bread  and  butter,  and  this  mu- 
tual want  made  us  better  acquainted  with  her  than 
we  should  ever  have  been  with  talking  about  the 
Court,  though  Miss  Pole  did  say  she  had  hoped  to 
know  how  the  dear  Queen  was  from  some  one  who 
had  seen  her. 

The  friendship  begun  over  bread  and  butter  ex- 
tended on  to  cards.  Lady  Glenmire  played  Prefer- 
ence to  admiration,  and  was  a  complete  authority  as 
to  Ombre  and  Quadrille.  Even  Miss  Pole  quite  for- 
got to  say  '-my  lady,"  and  "your  ladyship,"  and  said 
"  Basto  !  ma'am"  ;  "you  have  Spadille,  I  believe," 
just  as  quietly  as  if  we  had  never  held  the  great  Cran- 
ford  parliament  on  the  subject  of  the  proper  mode  of 
addressing  a  peeress. 

As  a  proof  of  how  thoroughly  we  had  forgotten 
that  we  were  in  the  presence  of  one  who  might  have 
sat  down  to  tea  with  a  coronet  instead  of  a  cap  on 
her  head,  Mrs.  Forrester  related  a  curious  little  fact 
to  Lady  Glenmire  —  an  anecdote  known  to  the 
circle  of  her  intimate  friends,  but  of  which  even  Mrs. 
Jamieson  was  not  aware.  It  related  to  some  fine 
old  lace,  the  sole  relic  of  better  days,  which  Lady 
Glenmire  was  admiring  on  Mrs.  Forrester's  collar. 

"Yes,"  said  that  lady,  "  such  lace  cannot  be  got 
now  for  either  love  or  money ;  made  by  the  nuns 
abroad,  they  tell  me.  They  say  that  they  can't 
make  it  now,  even  there.  But  perhaps  they  can  now 
they've  passed  the  Catholic  Emancipation  Bill.  I 
should  not  wonder.     But,  in  the  meantime,  I  treas- 


"YOUR  LADYSHIP"  141 

ure  up  my  lace  very  much.  I  daren't  even  trust  the 
washing  of  it  to  my  maid  "  (the  little  charity  school- 
girl I  have  named  before,  but  who  sounded  well  as 
"  my  maid  ") .  "  I  always  wash  it  myself.  And  once 
it  had  a  narrow  escape.  Of  course,  your  ladyship 
knows  that  such  lace  must  never  be  starched  or 
ironed.  Some  people  wash  it  in  sugar  and  water, 
and  some  in  coffee,  to  make  it  the  right  yellow  colour ; 
but  I  myself  have  a  very  good  receipt  for  washing  it 
in  milk,  which  stiffens  it  enough,  and  gives  it  a  very- 
good  creamy  colour.  Well,  ma"am,  I  had  tacked  it 
together  (and  the  beauty  of  this  fine  lace  is  that, 
when  it  is  wet,  it  goes  into  a  very  little  space),  and 
put  it  to  soak  in  milk,  when,  unfortunately,  I  left  the 
room ;  on  my  return  I  found  pussy  on  the  table,  look- 
ing ver)'  like  a  thief,  but  gulping  very  uncomfortably, 
as  if  she  was  half-choked  with  something  she  wanted 
to  swallow  and  could  not.  And,  would  you  believe 
it  ?  At  first  I  pitied  her,  and  said  '  Poor  pussy  !  poor 
pussy  ! '  till,  all  at  once,  I  looked  and  saw  the  cup  of 
milk  empty  —  cleaned  out  !  '  You  naughty  cat ! '  said 
I ;  and  I  believe  I  was  provoked  enough  to  give  her 
a  slap,  which  did  no  good,  but  only  helped  the  lace 
down — just  as  one  slaps  a  choking  child  on  the  back. 
1  could  have  cried,  I  was  so  vexed ;  but  I  determined 
I  would  not  give  the  lace  up  without  a  struggle  for 
it.  I  hoped  the  lace  might  disagree  with  her,  at  any 
rate  ;  but  it  would  have  been  too  much  for  Job,  if  he 
had  seen,  as  I  did,  that  cat  come  in,  quite  placid  and 
purring,  not  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after,  and  almost 
expecting  to  be  stroked.  '  No,  pussy  ! '  said  I,  '  if 
you  have  any  conscience  you   ought  nci:   to  expect 


142  CRANFOKD 

that!'  And  then  a  thought  struck  me;  and  I  rang 
the  bell  for  my  maid,  and  sent  her  to  Mr.  Hoggins, 
with  my  compliments,  and  would  he  be  kind  enough 
to  lend  me  one  of  his  top-boots  for  an  hour?  I  did 
not  think  there  was  anything  odd  in  the  message ; 
but  Jenny  said  the  young  men  in  tlie  surgery  laughed 
as  if  they  would  be  ill  at  my  wanting  a  top-boot. 
When  it  came,  Jenny  and  I  put  pussy  in,  with  her 
fore-feet  straight  down,  so  that  they  were  fastened, 
and  could  not  scratch,  and  we  gave  her  a  teaspoonfui 
of  currant-jelly  in  which  (your  ladyship  must  excuse 
me)  I  had  mixed  some  tartar  emetic.  I  shall  never 
forget  how  anxious  I  was  for  the  next  half-hour.  I 
took  pussy  to  my  own  room,  and  spread  a  clean 
towel  on  the  floor.  I  could  have  kissed  her  when  she 
returned  the  lace  to  sight,  very  much  as  it  had  gone 
down.  Jenny  had  boiling  water  ready,  and  we 
soaked  it  and  soaked  it,  and  spread  it  on  a  lavender- 
bush  in  the  sun  before  I  could  touch  it  again,  even 
to  put  it  in  milk.  But  now  your  ladyship  would 
never  guess  that  it  had  been  in  pussy's  inside." 

We  found  out,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  that 
Lady  Glenmire  was  going  to  pay  Mrs.  Jamieson  a 
long  visit,  as  she  had  given  up  her  apartments  in 
Edinburgh,  and  had  no  ties  to  take  her  back  there  in 
a  hurry.  On  the  whole,  we  were  rather  glad  to  hear 
this,  for  she  had  made  a  pleasant  impression  upon 
us ;  and  it  was  also  very  comfortable  to  find,  from 
things  which  dropped  out  in  the  course  of  conver- 
sation, that,  in  addition  to  many  other  genteel  quali- 
ties, she  was  far  removed  from  the  "  vulgarity  of 
wealth." 


"YOUR  LADYSHIP"  143 

"Don't  you  find  it  very  unpleasant  walking?"" 
asked  Mrs.  Jamieson,  as  our  respective  servants  were 
announced.  It  was  a  pretty  regular  question  from 
Mrs.  Jamieson,  who  had  her  own  carriage  in  the 
coach-house,  and  always  went  out  in  a  sedan-chair  to 
the  very  shortest  distances.  The  answers  were 
nearly  as  much  a  matter  of  course. 

"  Oh  dear,  no  !  it  is  so  pleasant  and  still  at  night !  " 
"  Such  a  refreshment  after  the  excitement  of  a  party!  " 
"  The  stars  are  so  beautiful  !  "  This  last  was  from 
Miss  Matty. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  astronomy  ?  "  Lady  Glenmire 
asked. 

'*  Not  very,"  replied  Miss  Matty,  rather  confused 
at  the  moment  to  remember  which  was  astronomy 
and  which  was  astrology  —  but  the  answer  was  true 
under  either  circumstance,  for  she  read,  and  was 
slightly  alarmed  at  Francis  Moore's  astrological  pre- 
dictions ;  and,  as  to  astronomy,  in  a  private  and  con- 
fidential conversation,  she  had  told  me  she  never 
could  believe  that  the  earth  was  moving  constantly, 
and  that  she  would  not  believe  it  if  she  could,  it 
made  her  feel  so  tired  and  dizzy  whenever  she  thought 
about  it. 

In  our  pattens  we  picked  our  way  home  with  extra 
care  that  night,  so  refined  and  delicate  were  our  per- 
ceptions after  drinking  tea  with  "  my  lady." 


Soon  after  the  events  of  which  I  gave  an  account 
in  my  last  paper,  I  was  summoned  home  by  my 
father's  illness ;  and  for  a  time  I  forgot,  in  anxiety 
about  him,  to  wonder  how  my  dear  friends  at  Cran- 
ford  were  getting  on,  or  how  Lady  Glenmire  could 
reconcile  herself  to  the  dulness  of  the  long  visit 
which  she  was  still  paying  to  her  sister-in-law,  Mrs. 
Jamieson.  When  my  father  grew  a  little  stronger  I 
accompanied  him  to  the  seaside,  so  that  altogether 
I  seemed  banished  from  Cranford,  and  was  deprived 
of  the  opportunity  of  hearing  any  chance  intelligence 
of  the  dear  little  town  for  the  greater  part  of  that 
year. 

Late  in  November  —  when  we  had  returned  home 
again,  and  my  father  was  once  more  in  good  health 
—  I  received  a  letter  from  Miss  Matty ;  and  a  very 
mysterious  letter  it  was.  She  began  many  sentences 
without  ending  them,  running  them  one  into  another, 
in  much  the  same  confused  sort  of  way  in  which 
144 


SIGNOR  B  RUN  ONI  14S 

written  words  run  together  on  blotting-paper.  All  I 
could  make  out  was  that,  if  my  father  was  better 
(which  she  hoped  he  was),  and  would  take  warning 
and  wear  a  greatcoat  from  Michaelmas  to  Lady-day, 
if  turbans  were  in  fashion,  could  I  tell  her?  Such  a 
piece  of  gaiety  was  going  to  happen  as  had  not  been 
seen  or  known  of  since  Wombwell's  lions  came,  when 
one  of  them  ate  a  little  child's  arm ;  and  she  was, 
perhaps,  too  old  to  care  about  dress,  but  a  new  cap 
she  must  have  ;  and,  having  heard  that  turbans  were 
worn,  and  some  of  the  county  families  likely  to 
come,  she  would  like  to  look  tidy,  if  I  would  bring 
her  a  cap  from  the  milliner  I  employed ;  and  oh, 
dear !  how  careless  of  her  to  forget  that  she  wrote 
to  beg  I  would  come  and  pay  her  a  visit  next  Tues- 
day ;  when  she  hoped  to  have  something  to  offer  me 
in  the  way  of  amusement,  which  she  would  not  now 
more  particularly  describe,  only  sea-green  was  her 
favourite  colour.  So  she  ended  her  letter ;  but  in  a 
P.  S.  she  added,  she  thought  she  might  as  well  tell 
me  what  was  the  peculiar  attraction  to  Cranford  just 
now ;  Signer  Brunoni  was  going  to  exhibit  his  won- 
derful magic  in  the  Cranford  Assembly  Rooms  on 
Wednesday  and  Friday  evening  in  the  following 
week. 

I  was  very  glad  to  accept  the  invitation  from  my 
dear  Miss  Matty,  independently  of  the  conjuror,  and 
most  particularly  anxious  to  prevent  her  from  dis- 
figuring her  small,  gentle,  mousey  face  with  a  great 
Saracen's  head  turban ;  and,  accordingly,  I  bought 
her  a  pretty,  neat,  middle-aged  cap,  which,  however, 
was  rather  a  disappointment  to  her,  when,  on   my 


146  CRANFORD 

arrival,  she  followed  me  into  my  bedroom,  ostensibly 
to  poke  the  fire,  but  in  reality,  I  do  believe,  to  see  if 
the  sea-green  turban  was  not  inside  the  cap-box  with 
which  I  had  travelled.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  twirled 
the  cap  round  on  my  hand  to  exhibit  back  and  side- 
fronts  :  her  heart  had  been  set  upon  a  turban,  and  all 
she  could  do  was  to  say,  with  resignation  in  her  look 
and  voice  — 

"  I  am  sure  you  did  your  best,  my  dear.  It  is  just 
like  the  caps  all  the  ladies  in  Cranford  are  wearing, 
and  they  have  had  theirs  for  a  year,  I  daresay.  I 
should  have  liked  something  newer,  I  confess  — 
something  more  like  the  turbans  Miss  Betty  Barker 
tells  me  Queen  Adelaide  wears  ;  but  it  is  very  pretty, 
my  dear.  And  I  daresay  lavender  will  wear  better 
than  sea-green.  Well,  after  all,  what  is  dress,  that 
we  should  care  about  it !  You'll  tell  me  if  you  want 
anything,  my  dear.  Here  is  the  bell.  I  suppose 
turbans  have  not  got  down  to  Drumble  yet?" 

So  saying,  the  dear  old  lady  gently  bemoaned  her- 
self out  of  the  room,  leaving  me  to  dress  for  the 
evening,  when,  as  she  informed  me,  she  expected 
Miss  Pole  and  Mrs.  Forrester,  and  she  hoped  I 
should  not  feel  myself  too  much  tired  to  join  the 
party.  Of  course  I  should  not ;  and  I  made  some 
haste  to  unpack  and  arrange  my  dress ;  but,  with  all 
my  speed,  I  heard  the  arrivals  and  the  buzz  of  con- 
versation in  the  next  room  before  I  was  ready.  Just 
as  I  opened  the  door,  I  caught  the  words,  "  I  was 
foolish  to  expect  anything  very  genteel  out  of  the 
Drumble  shops  ;  poor  girl !  she  did  her  best,  IVe  no 
doubt."     But,  for  all   that,   I   had   rather  that  she 


SIGNOR  BRUNONI  147 

blamed  Drumble  and  me  than  disfigured  herself 
with  a  turban. 

Miss  Pole  was  always  the  person,  in  the  trio  ot 
Cranford  ladies  now  assembled,  to  have  had  adven- 
tures. She  was  in  the  habit  of  spending  the  morn- 
ing in  rambling  from  shop  to  shop,  not  to  purchase 
anything  (except  an  occasional  reel  of  cotton,  or  a 
piece  of  tape),  but  to  see  the  new  articles  and  report 
upon  them,  and  to  collect  all  the  stray  pieces  of  intelli- 
gence in  the  town.  She  had  a  way,  too,  of  demurely 
popping  hither  and  thither  into  all  sorts  of  places  to 
gratify  her  curiosity  on  any  point  —  a  way  which,  if 
she  had  not  looked  so  very  genteel  and  prim,  might 
have  been  considered  impertinent.  And  now,  by 
the  expressive  way  in  which  she  cleared  her  throat, 
and  waited  for  all  minor  subjects  (such  as  caps  and 
turbans)  to  be  cleared  off  the  course,  we  knew  she 
had  something  very  particular  to  relate,  when  the 
due  pause  came  —  and  I  defy  any  people,  possessed 
of  common  modesty,  to  keep  up  a  conversation  long, 
where  one  among  them  sits  up  aloft  in  silence,  look- 
ing down  upon  all  the  things  they  chance  to  say  as 
trivial  and  contemptible  compared  to  what  they  could 
disclose,  if  properly  entreated.     Miss  Pole  began  — 

"  As  I  was  stepping  out  of  Gordon's  shop  to-day, 
I  chanced  to  go  into  the  '  George '  (my  Betty  has  a 
second-cousin  who  is  chambermaid  there,  and  I 
thought  Betty  would  like  to  hear  how  she  was),  and, 
not  seeing  any  one  about,  I  strolled  up  the  staircase, 
and  found  myself  in  the  passage  leading  to  the 
Assembly  Room  (you  and  I  remember  the  Assembly 
Room,  I  am  sure.  Miss  Matty  !  and  the  minuets  de 


148  CRANFORD 

la  cour  !)  ;  so  I  went  on,  not  thinking  of  what  1  was 
about,  when,  all  at  once,  I  perceived  that  I  was  in 
the  middle  of  the  preparations  for  to-morrow  night  — 
the  room  being  divided  with  great  clothes-maids, 
over  which  Crosby's  men  were  tacking  red  flannel ; 
very  dark  and  odd  it  seemed ;  it  quite  bewildered 
me,  and  I  was  going  on  behind  the  screens,  in  my 
absence  of  mind,  when  a  gentleman  (quite  the  gen- 
tleman, I  can  assure  you)  stepped  forwards  and  asked 
if  I  had  any  business  he  could  arrange  for  me.  He 
spoke  such  pretty  broken  English,  I  could  not  help 
thinking  of  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,  and  the  Hungarian 
Brothers,  and  Santo  Sebastiani ;  and  while  I  was 
busy  picturing  his  past  life  to  myself,  he  had  bowed 
me  out  of  the  room.  But  wait  a  minute  !  You  have 
not  heard  half  my  story  yet !  I  was  going  down- 
stairs, when  who  should  I  meet  but  Betty's  second- 
cousin.  So,  of  course,  I  stopped  to  speak  to  her  for 
Betty's  sake ;  and  she  told  me  that  I  had  really  seen 
the  conjuror  —  the  gentleman  who  spoke  broken 
English  was  Signor  Brunoni  himself.  Just  at  this 
moment  he  passed  us  on  the  stairs,  making  such  a 
graceful  bow !  in  reply  to  which  I  dropped  a  curtsey 
—  all  foreigners  have  such  polite  manners,  one  catches 
something  of  it.  But,  when  he  had  gone  downstairs, 
I  bethought  me  that  if  I  had  dropped  my  glove  in 
the  Assembly  Room  (it  was  safe  in  my  muff  all  the 
time,  but  I  never  found  it  till  afterwards)  ;  so  I  went 
back,  and,  just  as  I  was  creeping  up  the  passage  left 
on  one  side  of  the  great  screen  that  goes  nearly 
across  the  room,  who  should  I  see  but  the  very  same 
gentleman  that  had  met  me  before,  and  passed  me 


SIGNOR  BRUNONI 


\A'. 


Making  such  a  graceful  bow'' 


on  the  stairs,  coming  now  forwards  from  the  inner 
part  of  the  room,  to  which  there  is  no  entrance — . 
you  remember,  Miss  Matty — and  just  repeating,  in 
his  pretty  broken  English,  the  inquiry  if  I  had  any 
business  there  —  I  don't  mean  that  he  put  it  quite  so 
bluntly,  but  he  seeip^d  vpry  determined  that  I  should 


ISO  CRANFORD 

not  pass  the  screen  —  so,  of  course,  I  explained 
about  my  glove,  which,  curiously  enough,  I  found  at 
that  very  moment." 

Miss  Pole,  then,  had  seen  the  conjuror  —  the  real, 
live  conjuror!  and  numerous  were  the  questions  we 
all  asked  her.  "Had  he  a  beard?"  "Was  he 
young,  or  old  ? "  "  Fair,  or  dark  ?  "  "  Did  he  look  " 
—  (  unable  to  shape  my  question  prudently,  I  put  it 
in  another  form  )  —  "  How  did  he  look?  "  In  short, 
Miss  Pole  was  the  heroine  of  the  evening,  owing  to 
her  morning's  encounter.  If  she  was  not  the  rose 
( that  is  to  say,  the  conjuror),  she  had  been  near  it. 

Conjuration,  sleight  of  hand,  magic,  witchcraft, 
were  the  subjects  of  the  evening.  Miss  Pole  was 
slightly  sceptical,  and  inclined  to  think  there  might 
be  a  scientific  solution  found  for  even  the  proceedings 
of  the  Witch  of  Endor.  Mrs.  Forrester  believed 
everything,  from  ghosts  to  death-watches.  Miss 
Matty  ranged  between  the  two  —  always  convinced 
by  the  last  speaker.  I  think  she  was  naturally  more 
inclined  to  Mrs.  Forrester's  side,  but  a  desire  of  prov- 
ing herself  a  worthy  sister  to  Miss  Jenkyns  kept  her 
equally  balanced  —  Miss  Jenkyns,  who  would  never 
allow  a  servant  to  call  the  little  rolls  of  tallow  that 
formed  themselves  round  candles  "  winding-sheets, 
but  insisted  on  their  being  spoken  of  as  "  roley- 
poleys!"  A  sister  of  hers  to  be  superstitious!  It 
wouM  never  do. 

After  tea,  I  was  despatched  downstairs  into  the 
dining-parlour  for  that  volume  of  the  old  Encyclo- 
paedia which  contained  the  nouns  beginning  with  C, 
in  order  that  Miss  Pole   might  prime  herself  with 


STGNOR  BR  UN  ONI  151 

scientific  explanations  for  the  tricks  of  the  following 
evening.  It  spoilt  the  pool  at  Preference  which  Miss 
Matty  and  Mrs.  Forrester  had  been  looking  forward 
to,  for  Miss  Pole  became  so  much  absorbed  in  her 
subject,  and  the  plates  by  which  it  was  illustrated, 
that  we  felt  it  would  be  cruel  to  disturb  her 
otherwise  than  by  one  or  two  well-timed  yawns,  which 
1  threw  in  now  and  then,  for  I  was  really  touched  by 
the  meek  way  in  which  the  two  ladies  were  bearing 
their  disappointment.  But  Miss  Pole  only  read  the 
more  zealously,  imparting  to  us  no  more  interesting 
information  than  this  — 

"Ah!  I  see;  I  comprehend  perfectly.  A  repre- 
sents the  ball.  Put  A  between  B  and  X>  —  no! 
between  C  and  F,  and  turn  the  second  joint  of  the 
third  finger  of  your  left  hand  over  the  wrist  of  your 
right  H.  Very  clear  indeed!  My  dear  Mrs.  For- 
rester, conjuring  and  witchcraft  is  a  mere  affair  of  the 
alphabet.     Do  let  me  read  you  this  one  passage?  " 

Mrs.  Forrester  implored  Miss  Pole  to  spare  her, 
saying,  from  a  child  upwards,  she  never  could  under- 
stand being  read  aloud  to ;  and  I  dropped  the  pack 
of  cards,  which  I  had  been  shuffling,  very  audibly,  and 
by  this  discreet  movement  I  obliged  Miss  Pole  to 
perceive  that  Preference  was  to  have  been  the  order 
of  the  evening,  and  to  propose,  rather  unwillingly, 
that  the  pool  should  commence.  The  pleasant 
brightness  that  stole  over  the  other  two  ladies'  faces 
on  this !  Miss  Matty  had  one  or  two  twinges  of  self- 
reproach  for  having  interrupted  Miss  Pole  in  her 
studies :  and  did  not  remember  her  cards  well,  or 
give   her  full  attention  to  the  game,  until   she  had 


152  CRANFORD 

soothed  her  conscience  by  offering  to  lend  the  volume 
of  the  Encyclopaedia  to  Miss  Pole,  who  accepted  it 
thankfully,  and  said  Betty  should  take  it  home  when 
she  came  with  the  lantern. 

The  next  evening  we  were  all  in  a  little  gentle 
flutter  at  the  idea  of  the  gaiety  before  us.  Miss 
Matty  went  up  to  dress  betimes,  and  hurried  me  until 
I  was  ready,  when  we  found  we  had  an  hour  and  a 
half  to  wait  before  the  "  doors  opened  at  seven  pre- 
cisely." And  we  had  only  twenty  yards  to  go ! 
However,  as  Miss  Matty  said,  it  would  not  do  to  get 
too  much  absorbed  in  anything  and  forget  the  time  ; 
so  she  thought  we  had  better  sit  quietly,  without 
lighting  ^he  candles,  till  five  minutes  to  seven.  So 
Miss  Matty  dozed,  and  I  knitted. 

At  length  we  set  off;  and  at  the  door,  under  the 
carriage-way  at  the  "  George,"  we  met  Mrs.  Forrester 
and  Miss  Pole :  the  latter  was  discussing  the  subject 
of  the  evening  with  more  vehemence  than  ever,  and 
throwing  A's  and  B's  at  our  heads  like  hailstones. 
She  had  even  copied  one  or  two  of  the  "  receipts  "  — 
as  she  called  them  —  for  the  different  tricks,  on  backs 
of  letters,  ready  to  explain  and  to  detect  Signor  Bru- 
noni's  arts. 

We  went  into  the  cloak-room  adjoining  the  Assem- 
bly Room ;  Miss  Matty  gave  a  sigh  or  two  to  her  de- 
parted youth,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  last  time 
she  had  been  there,  as  she  adjusted  her  pretty  new 
cap  before  the  strange,  quaint  old  mirror  in  the  cloak- 
room. The  Assembly  Room  had  been  added  to  the 
inn,  about  a  hundred  years  before,  by  the  different 
county  families,  who  met  together  there  once  a  month 


SIGNOR   BRUNONI  153 

during  the  winter  to  dance  and  play  at  cards.  Many 
a  county  beauty  had  first  swum  through  the  minuet  that 
she  afterwards  danced  before  Queen  Charlotte  in  this 
very  room.  It  was  said  that  one  of  the  Gunnings  had 
graced  the  apartment  with  her  beauty ;  it  was  certain 
that  a  rich  and  beautiful  widow,  Lady  Williams,  had 
here  been  smitten  with  the  noble  figure  of  a  young 
artist,  who  was  staying  with  some  family  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood for  professional  purposes,  and  accompanied 
his  patrons  to  the  Cranford  Assembly.  And  a  pretty 
bargain  poor  Lady  Williams  had  of  her  handsome 
husband,  if  all  tales  were  true.  Now,  no  beauty 
blushed  and  dimpled  along  the  sides  of  the  Cranford 
Assembly  Room ;  no  handsome  artist  won  hearts  by 
his  bow,  chapeau  bras  in  hand ;  the  old  room  was 
dingy ;  the  salmon-coloured  paint  had  faded  into  a 
drab ;  great  pieces  of  plaster  had  chipped  off  from 
the  white  wreaths  and  festoons  on  its  walls  ;  but  still 
a  mouldy  odour  of  aristocracy  lingered  about  the 
place,  and  a  dusty  recollection  of  the  days  that  were 
gone  made  Miss  Matty  and  Mrs.  Forrester  bridle  up 
as  they  entered,  and  walk  mincingly  up  the  room,  as 
if  there  were  a  number  of  genteel  observers,  instead  of 
two  little  boys  with  a  stick  of  toffy  between  them  with 
which  to  beguile  the  time. 

We  stopped  short  at  the  second  front  row ;  I  could 
hardly  understand  why,  until  I  heard  Miss  Pole  ask  a 
stray  waiter  if  any  of  the  county  families  were  ex- 
pected ;  and  when  he  shook  his  head,  and  believed 
not,  Mrs.  Forrester  and  Miss  Matty  moved  forwards, 
and  our  party  represented  a  conversational  square. 
The  front  row  was  soon  augmented  and  enriched  by 


154  CRANFORD 

Lady  Glenmire  and  Mrs.  Jamieson.  We  six  occupied 
the  two  front  rows,  and  our  aristocratic  seclusion  was 
respected  by  the  groups  of  shopkeepers  who  strayed 
in  from  time  to  time  and  huddled  together  on  the  back 
benches.  At  least  I  conjectured  so,  from  the  noise 
they  made,  and  the  sonorous  bumps  they  gave  in  sit- 
ting down ;  but  when,  in  weariness  of  the  obstinate 
green  curtain  that  would  not  draw  up,  but  would  stare 
at  me  with  two  odd  eyes,  seen  through  holes,  as  in  the 
old  tapestry  story,  I  would  fain  have  looked  round  at  the 
merry  chattering  people  behind  me,  Miss  Pole  clutched 
my  arm,  and  begged  me  not  to  turn,  for  "  it  was  not 
the  thing."  What  "  the  thing "  was,  I  never  could 
find  out,  but  it  must  have  been  something  eminently 
dull  and  tiresome.  However,  we  all  sat  eyes  right, 
square  front,  gazing  at  the  tantalising  curtain,  and 
hardly  speaking  intelligibly,  we  were  so  afraid  of  being 
caught  in  the  vulgarity  of  making  any  noise  in  a  place 
of  public  amusement.  Mrs.  Jamieson  was  the  most 
fortunate,  for  she  fell  asleep. 

At  length  the  eyes  disappeared — the  curtain  quiv- 
ered —  one  side  went  up  before  the  other,  which  stuck 
fast ;  it  was  dropped  again,  and,  with  a  fresh  effort, 
and  a  vigorous  pull  from  some  unseen  hand,  it  flew 
up,  revealing  to  our  sight  a  magnificent  gentleman  in 
the  Turkish  costume,  seated  before  a  little  table,  gaz- 
ing at  us  ;  (I  should  have  said  with  the  same  eyes  that 
I  had  last  seen  through  the  hole  in  the  curtain)  with 
calm  and  condescending  dignity,  "like  a  being  of  an- 
other sphere,"  as  I  heard  a  sentimental  voice  ejacu- 
late behind  me. 

"  That's  not  Signor  Brunoni  ! "  said  Miss  Pole  de- 


SIGJVOR  BRUNONI  155 

cidedly ;  and  so  audibly  that  I  am  sure  he  heard,  for 
he  glanced  down  over  his  flowing  beard  at  our  party 
with  an  air  of  mute  reproach.  "  Signor  Brunoni  had 
no  beard  —  but  perhaps  he'll  come  soon."  So  she 
lulled  herself  into  patience.  Meanwhile,  Miss  Matty 
had  reconnoitred  through  her  eye-glass,  wiped  it,  and 
looked  again.  Then  she  turned  round,  and  said  to 
me,  in  a  kind,  mild,  sorrowful  tone  — 

"  You  see,  my  dear,  turbans  are  worn." 

But  we  had  no  time  for  more  conversation.  The 
Grand  Turk,  as  Miss  Pole  chose  to  call  him,  arose  and 
announced  himself  as  Signor  Brunoni. 

"  I  don''t  believe  him  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Pole,  in  a 
defiant  manner.  He  looked  at  her  again,  with  the 
same  dignified  upbraiding  in  his  countenance.  "I 
don't ! "  she  repeated  more  positively  than  ever. 
"  Signor  Bmnoni  had  not  got  that  mufFy  sort  of  thing 
about  his  chin,  but  looked  like  a  close-shaved  Chris- 
tian gentleman." 

Miss  Pole's  energetic  speeches  had  the  good  eftect 
of  wakening  up  Mrs.  Jamieson,  who  opened  her  eyes 
wide,' in  sign  of  the  deepest  attention  —  a  proceeding 
which  silenced  Miss  Pole  and  encouraged  the  Grand 
Turk  to  proceed,  which  he  did  in  very  broken  English 
—  so  broken  that  there  was  no  cohesion  between  the 
parts  of  his  sentences  ;  a  fact  which  he  himself  per- 
ceived at  last,  and  so  left  off  speaking  and  proceeded 
to  action. 

Now  we  were  astonished.  How  he  did  his  tricks  I 
could  not  imagine  ;  no,  not  even  when  Miss  Pole  pulled 
out  her  pieces  of  paper  and  began  reading  aloud —  or 
at  least   in  a  very  audible  whisper  —  the   separate 


156  CRANFORD 

"receipts"  for  the  most  common  of  his  tricks.  If 
ever  I  saw  a  man  frown  and  look  enraged,  I  saw  the 
Grand  Turk  frown  at  Miss  Pole ;  but,  as  she  said, 
what  could  be  expected  but  unchristian  looks  from  a 
Mussulman  ?  If  Miss 'Pole  were  sceptical,  and  more 
engrossed  with  her  receipts  and  diagrams  than  with 
his  tricks,  Miss  Matty  and  Mrs.  Forrester  were  mysti- 
fied and  perplexed  to  the  highest  degree.  Mrs.  Jamie- 
son  kept  taking  her  spectacles  off  and  wiping  them,  as 
if  she  thought  it  was  something  defective  in  them 
which  made  the  legerdemain ;  and  Lady  Glenmire, 
who  had  seen  many  curious  sights  in  Edinburgh,  was 
very  much  struck  with  the  tricks,  and  would  not  at  all 
agree  with  Miss  Pole,  who  declared  that  anybody 
could  do  them  with  a  little  practice,  and  that  she  would, 
herself,  undertake  to  do  all  he  did,  with  two  hours 
given  to  study  the  Encyclopaedia  and  make  her  third 
finger  flexible. 

At  last  Miss  Matty  and  Mrs.  Forrester  became  per- 
fectly awe-stricken.  They  whispered  together.  I  sat 
just  behind  them,  so  I  could  not  help  hearing  what 
they  were  saying.  Miss  Matty  asked  Mrs.  Forrester 
"  if  she  thought  it  was  quite  right  to  have  come  to 
see  such  things?  She  could  not  help  fearing  they 
were  lending  encouragement  to  something  that  was 

not  quite "     A  little  shake  of  the  head  filled  up 

the  blank.  Mrs.  Forrester  replied  that  the  same 
thought  had  crossed  her  mind ;  she,  too,  was  feeling 
very  uncomfortable,  it  was  so  very  strange.  She  was 
quite  certain  that  it  was  her  pocket-handkerchief 
which  was  in  that  loaf  just  now;  and  it  had  been  in 
her  own  hand  not  five  minutes  before.     She  won- 


SIGNOR  BRUNONI 


157 


dered  who  had  furnished  the  bread  ?  She  was  sure 
it  could  not  be  Dakin,  because  he  was  the  church- 
warden.    Suddenly  Miss  Matty  half-turned  towards 


"Will  you  look,  my  dear  —  you  are  a  stranger  in 
the  town,  and  it  won't  give  rise  to  unpleasant  reports 


"  The  Church  smiling  approval." 

—  will  you  just  look  round  and  see  if  the  rector  is 
here?  If  he  is,  I  think  we  may  conclude  that  this 
wonderful  man  is  sanctioned  by  the  Church,  and  that 
will  be  a  great  relief  to  my  mind." 

I  looked,  and  I  saw  the  tall,  thin,  dry,  rusty  rector, 
sitting  surrounded  by  National  School  boys,  guarded 
by  troops  of  his  own  sex  from  any  approach  of  the 


158  CRANFORD 

many  Cranford  spinsters.  His  kind  face  was  all 
agape  with  broad  smiles,  and  the  boys  around  him 
were  in  chinks  of  laughing.  I  told  Miss  Matty  that 
the  Church  was  smiling  approval,  which  set  her  mind 
at  ease. 

I  have  never  named  Mr.  Hayter,  the  rector,  because 
I,  as  a  well-to-do  and  hapjDy  young  woman,  never 
came  in  contact  with  him.  He  was  an  old  bachelor, 
but  as  afraid  of  matrimonial  reports  getting  abroad 
about  him  as  any  girl  of  eighteen  :  and  he  would  rush 
into  a  shop,  or  drive  down  an  entry,  sooner  than  en- 
counter any  of  the  Cranford  ladies  in  the  street ;  and, 
as  for  the  Preference  parties,  I  did  not  wonder  at  his 
not  accepting  invitations  to  them.  To  tell  the  truth, 
I  always  suspected  Miss  Pole  of  having  given  very 
vigorous  chase  to  Mr.  Hayter  when  he  first  came  to 
Cranford  ;  and  not  the  less,  because  now  she  appeared 
to  share  so  vividly  in  his  dread  lest  her  name  should 
ever  be  coupled  with  his.  He  found  all  his  interests 
among  the  poor  and  helpless ;  he  had  treated  the 
National  School  boys  this  very  night  to  the  perform- 
ance ;  and  virtue  was  for  once  its  own  reward,  for 
they  guarded  him  right  and  left,  and  clung  round 
him  as  if  he  had  been  the  queen-bee  and  they  the 
swarm.  He  felt  so  safe  in  their  environment  that  he 
could  even  afford  to  give  our  party  a  bow  as  we  filed 
out.  Miss  Pole  ignored  his  presence,  and  pretended 
to  be  absorbed  in  convincing  us  that  we  had  been 
cheated,  and  had  not  seen  Signor  Brunoni  after  all. 


THINK  a  series  of  circumstances  dated  from 
Signor  Brunoni's  visit  to  Cranford, 
which  seemed  at  the  time  connected 
in  our  minds  with  him,  though  I  don't 
know  that  he  had  anything  really  to 
do  with  them.  All  at  once  all  sorts  of  uncomfortable 
rumours  got  afloat  in  the  town.  There  were  one  or 
two  robberies  —  real  bond  fide  robberies  ;  men  had  up 
before  the  magistrates  and  committed  for  trial  —  and 
tliat  seemed  to  make  us  all  afraid  of  being  robbed  ;  and 
for  a  long  time,  at  Miss  Matty's,  I  know,  we  used  to 
make  a  regular  expedition  all  round  the  kitchens  and 
cellars  every  night.  Miss  Matty  leading  the  way,  armed 
with  the  poker,  I  following  with  the  hearth-brush, 
and  Martha  carrying  the  shovel  and  fire-irons  with 
which  to  sound  the  alarm ;  and  by  the  accidental  hit- 
ting together  of  them  she  often  frightened  us  so  much 
that  we  bolted  ourselves  up,  all  three  together,  in  the 
back-kitchen,  or  store-room,  or  wherever  we  happened 
to  be,  till,  when  our  affright  was  over,  we  recollected 
ourselves,  and  set  out  afresh  with  double  valiance. 
By  day  we  heard  strange  stories  from  the  shopkeepers 

IS9 


160  CRANFORD 

and  cottagers,  of  carts  that  went  about  in  the  dead  of 
night,  drawn  by  horses  shod  with  felt,  and  guarded 
by  men  in  dark  clothes,  going  round  the  town,  no 
doubt  in  search  of  some  unwatched  house  or  some 
unfastened  door. 

Miss  Pole,  who  affected  great  bravery  herself,  was 
the  principal  person  to  collect  and  arrange  these  re- 
ports so  as  to  make  them  assume  their  most  fearful 
aspect.  But  we  discovered  that  she  had  begged  one 
of  Mr.  Hoggins's  worn-out  hats  to  hang  up  in  her 
lobby,  and  we  (  at  least  I )  had  doubts  as  to  whether 
she  really  would  enjoy  the  little  adventure  of  having 
her  house  broken  into,  as  she  protested  she  should. 
Miss  Matty  made  no  secret  of  being  an  arrant  cow- 
ard, but  she  went  regularly  through  her  housekeeper's 
duty  of  inspection  —  only  the  hour  for  this  became 
earlier  and  earlier,  till  at  last  we  went  the  rounds  at 
half-past  six,  and  Miss  Matty  adjourned  to  bed  soon 
after  seven,  "  in  order  to  get  the  night  over  the  sooner." 

Cranford  had  so  long  piqued  itself  on  being  an 
honest  and  moral  town  that  it  had  grown  to  fancy  it- 
self too  genteel  and  well-bred  to  be  otherwise,  and 
felt  the  stain  upon  its  character  at  this  time  doubly. 
But  we  comforted  ourselves  with  the  assurance  which 
we  gave  to  each  other  that  the  robberies  could  never 
have  been  committed  by  any  Cranford  person ;  it 
must  have  been  a  stranger  or  strangers  who  brought 
this  disgrace  upon  the  town,  and  occasioned  as  many 
precautions  as  if  we  were  living  among  the  Red 
Indians  or  the  French. 

This  last  comparison  of  our  nightly  state  of  defence 
and  fortification  was  made  by  Mrs.  Forrester,  whose 


THE  PANIC  161 

father  had  served  under  General  Burgoyne  in  the 
American  war,  and  whose  husband  had  fought  the 
French  in  Spain.  She  indeed  incHned  to  the  idea 
that,  in  some  way,  the  French  were  connected  with 
the  small  thefts,  which  were  ascertained  facts,  and 
the  burglaries  and  highway  robberies,  which  were 
rumours.  She  had  been  deeply  impressed  with  the 
idea  of  French  spies  at  some  time  in  her  life ;  and 
the  notion  could  never  be  fairly  eradicated,  but 
sprang  up  again  from  time  to  time.  And  now  her 
theory  was  this :  The  Cranford  people  respected 
themselves  too  much,  and  were  too  grateful  to  the 
aristocracy  who  were  so  kind  as  to  live  near  the  town, 
ever  to  disgrace  their  bringing  up  by  being  dishonest 
or  immoral ;  therefore,  we  must  believe  that  the  rob- 
bers were  strangers  —  if  strangers,  why  not  foreigners .'' 
—  if  foreigners,  who  so  likely  as  the  French  ?  Signor 
Brunoni  spoke  broken  English  like  a  Frenchman ; 
and,  though  he  wore  a  turban  like  a  Turk,  Mrs.  For- 
rester had  seen  a  print  of  Madame  de  Stael  with  a 
turban  on,  and  another  of  Mr.  Denon  in  just  such  a 
dress  as  that  in  which  the  conjuror  had  made  his- 
appearance,  showing  clearly  that  the  French,  as  well 
as  the  Turks,  wore  turbans.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
Signor  Brunoni  was  a  Frenchman  —  a  French  spy 
come  to  discover  the  weak  and  undefended  places  of 
England,  and  doubtless  he  had  his  accomplices. 
For  her  part,  she,  Mrs.  Forrester,  had  always  had 
her  own  opinion  of  Miss  Pole's  adventure  at  the 
"George  Inn"  —  seeing  two  men  where  only  one 
was  believed  to  be.  French  people  had  ways  and 
means  which,  she  was  thankful  to  say,  the  English 


162  CRANFORD 

knew  nothing  about ;  and  she  had  never  felt  quite 
easy  in  her  mind  about  going  to  see  that  conjuror  — 
it  was  rather  too  much  like  a  forbidden  thing,  though 
the  rector  was  there.  In  short,  Mrs.  Forrester  grew 
more  excited  than  we  had  ever  known  her  before,  and, 
being  an  officer's  daughter  and  widow,  we  looked  up 
to  her  opinion,  of  course. 

Really  I  do  not  know  how  much  was  true  or  false 
in  the  reports  which  flew  about  like  wildfire  just  at 
this  time ;  but  it  seemed  to  me  then  that  there  was 
every  reason  to  believe  that  at  Mardon  (a  small  town 
about  eight  miles  from  Cranford)  houses  and  shops 
were  entered  by  holes  made  in  the  walls,  the  bricks 
being  silently  carried  away  in  the  dead  of  the  night, 
and  all  done  so  quietly  that  no  sound  was  heard  either 
in  or  out  of  the  house.  Miss  Matty  gave  it  up  in 
despair  when  she  heard  of  this.  "What  was  the 
use,"  said  she,  "  of  locks  and  bolts,  and  bells  to  the 
windows,  and  going  round  the  house  every  night? 
That  last  trick  was  fit  for  a  conjuror.  Now  she  did 
believe  that  Signor  Brunoni  was  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

One  afternoon,  about  five  o'clock,  we  were  startled 
by  a  hasty  knock  at  the  door.  Miss  Matty  bade  me 
run  and  tell  Martha  on  no  account  to  open  the  door 
till  she  (Miss  Matty)  had  reconnoitred  through  the 
window ;  and  she  armed  herself  with  a  footstool  to 
drop  down  on  the  head  of  the  visitor,  in  case  he 
should  show  a  face  covered  with  black  crape,  as  he 
looked  up  in  answer  to  her  inquiry  of  who  was  there. 
But  it  was  nobody  but  Miss  Pole  and  Betty.  The 
former  came  upstairs,  carrying  a  little  hand-basket, 
and  she  was  evidently  in  a  state  of  great  agitation. 


THE  PANIC 


163 


«  Take  care  of  that  !  "  said  she  to  me,  as  I  offered 
to  relieve  her  of  her  basket.  "It's  my  plate.  I  am 
sure  there  is  a  plan  to  rob  my  house  to-night.  I 
am  come  to  throw  myself  on  your  hospitality,  Miss 
Matty.     Betty  is  going  to  sleep  with  her  cousin  at  the 


164  CRANFORD 

'  George.'  I  can  sit  up  here  all  night  if  you  will  al- 
low me  ;  but  my  house  is  so  far  from  any  neighbours, 
and  I  don't  believe  we  could  be  heard  if  we  screamed 
ever  so ! " 

"  But,"  said  Miss  Matty,  "  what  has  alarmed  you 
so  much  ?  Have  you  seen  any  men  lurking  about  the 
house  ? " 

"  Oh  yes  !  "  answered  Miss  Pole.  "  Two  very  bad- 
looking  men  have  gone  three  times  past  the  house, 
very  slowly ;  and  an  Irish  beggar-woman  came  not 
half-an-hour  ago,  and  all  but  forced  herself  in  past 
Betty,  saying  her  children  were  starving,  and  she 
must  speak  to  the  mistress.  You  see,  she  said  '  mis- 
tress,' though  there  was  a  hat  hanging  up  in  the  hall, 
and  it  would  have  been  more  natural  to  have  said 
*  master.'  But  Betty  shut  the  door  in  her  face,  and 
came  up  to  me,  and  we  got  the  spoons  together,  and 
sat  in  the  parlour-window  watching  till  we  saw 
Thomas  Jones  going  from  his  work,  when  we  called 
to  him  and  asked  him  to  take  care  of  us  into  the 
town." 

We  might  have  triumphed  over  Miss  Pole,  who 
had  professed  such  bravery  until  she  was  frightened ; 
but  we  were  too  glad  to  perceive  that  she  shared  in 
the  weakness  of  humanity  to  exult  over  her ;  and  I 
gave  up  my  room  to  her  very  willingly,  and  shared 
Miss  Matty's  bed  for  the  night.  But  before  we  re- 
tired, the  two  ladies  rummaged  up,  out  of  the  recesses 
of  their  memory,  such  horrid  stories  of  robbery  and 
murder  that  1  quite  quaked  in  my  shoes.  Mifes  Pole 
was  evidently  anxious  to  prove  that  such  terrible 
events  had  occurred  within  her  experience  that  she 


THE  PANIC  165 

was  Justified  in  her  sudden  panic ;  and  Miss  Matty 
did  not  like  to  be  outdone,  and  capped  every  story 
with  one  yet  more  horrible,  till  it  reminded  me,  oddly 
enough,  of  an  old  story  I  had  read  somewhere,  of  a 
nightingale  and  a  musician,  who  strove  one  against 
the  other  which  could  produce  the  most  admirable 
music,  till  poor  Philomel  dropped  down  dead. 

One  of  the  stories  that  haunted  me  for  a  long  time 
afterwards  was  of  a  girl  who  was  left  in  charge  of  a 
great  house  in  Cumberland  on  some  particular  fair- 
day,  when  the  other  servants  all  went  off  to  the 
gaieties.  The  family  were  away  in  London,  and  a 
pedlar  came  by,  and  asked  to  leave  his  large  and 
heavy  pack  in  the  kitchen,  saying  he  v/ould  call  for  it 
again  at  night ;  and  the  girl  (a  gamekeeper's  daugh- 
ter), roaming  about  in  search  of  amusement,  chanced 
to  hit  upon  a  gun  hanging  up  in  the  hall,  and  took 
it  down  to  look  at  the  chasing ;  and  it  went  off 
through  the  open  kitchen  door,  hit  the  pack,  and  a 
slow  dark  thread  of  blood  came  oozing  out.  (How 
Miss  Pole  enjoyed  this  part  of  the  story,  dwelling  on 
each  word  as  if  she  loved  it !)  She  rather  hurried 
over  the  further  account  of  the  girl's  bravery,  and  I 
have  but  a  confused  idea  that,  somehow,  she  baffled 
the  robbers  with  Italian  irons,  heated  red-hot,  and 
then  restored  to  blackness  by  being  dipped  in 
grease. 

We  parted  for  the  night  with  an  awe-stricken  won- 
der as  to  what  we  should  hear  of  in  the  morning  — 
and,  on  my  part,  with  a  vehement  desire  for  the  night 
to  be  over  and  gone :  I  was  so  afraid  lest  the  robbers 
should  have  seen,  from  some  dark  lurking-place,  that 


166  CRANFORD 

Miss  Pole  had  carried  off  her  plate,  and  thus  have  a 
double  motive  for  attacking  our  house. 

But  until  Lady  Glenmire  came  to  call  next  day  we 
heard  of  nothing  unusual.  The  kitchen  fire-irons 
were  in  exactly  the  same  position  against  the  back 
door  as  when  Martha  and  I  had  skilfully  piled  them 
up,  like  spillikins,  ready  to  fall  with  an  awful  clatter  if 
only  a  cat  had  touched  the  outside  panels.  I  had 
wondered  what  we  should  all  do  if  thus  awakened  and 
alarmed,  and  had  proposed  to  Miss  Matty  that  we 
should  cover  up  our  faces  under  the  bed-clothes,  so 
that  there  should  be  no  danger  of  the  robbers  think- 
ing that  we  could  identify  them ;  but  Miss  Matty, 
who  was  trembling  very  much,  scouted  this  idea,  and 
said  we  owed  it  to  society  to  apprehend  them,  and 
that  she  should  certainly  do  her  best  to  lay  hold  of 
them  and  lock  them  up  in  the  garret  till  morning. 

When  Lady  Glenmire  came,  we  almost  felt  jealous 
of  her.  Mrs.  Jamieson's  house  had  really  been 
attacked ;  at  least  there  were  men's  footsteps  to  be 
seen  on  the  flower  borders,  underneath  the  kitchen 
windows,  "  where  nae  men  should  be ;  "  and  Carlo 
had  barked  all  through  the  night  as  if  strangers  were 
abroad.  Mrs.  Jamieson  had  been  awakened  by  Lady 
Glenmire,  and  they  had  rung  the  bell  which  commu- 
nicated with  Mr.  MuUiner's  room  in  the  third  story, 
and  when  his  nightcapped  head  had  appeared  over 
the  banisters,  in  answer  to  their  summons,  they  had 
told  him  of  their  alarm,  and  the  reasons  for  it ;  where- 
upon he  retreated  into  his  bedroom,  and  locked  the 
door  (for  fear  of  draughts,  as  he  informed  them  in 
the  morning),  and  opened   the  window,  and  called 


THE    PANIC 


167 


out  valiaiitly  to  say,  if  the  supposed  robbers  would 
come  to  him  he  would  fight  them ;  but,  as  Lady 
Glenmire  observed,  that  was  but  poor  comfort,  since 
they  would  have  to  pass  by  Mrs.  Jamieson's  room  and 


"  Called  out  valiant  'y. 


her  own  before  they  could  reach  him,  and  must  be  of 
a  very  pugnacious  disposition  indeed  if  they  neglected 
the  opportunities  of  robbery  presented  by  the  un- 
guarded lower  stories,  to  go  up  to  a  garret,  and  there 
force  a  door  in  order  to  get  at  the  champion  of  the 


168  CRANFORD 

house.  Lady  Glenmire,  after  waiting  and  listening 
for  some  time  in  the  drawing-room,  had  proposed  to 
Mrs.  Jamieson  that  tliey  should  go  to  bed ;  but  that 
lady  said  she  should  not  feel  comfortable  unless  she 
sat  up  and  watched ;  and,  accordingly,  she  packed 
herself  warmly  up  on  the  sofa,  where  she  was  found  by 
the  housemaid,  when  she  came  into  the  room  at  six 
o'clock,  fast  asleep  ;  but  Lady  Glenmire  went  to  bed, 
and  kept  awake  all  night. 

When  Miss  Pole  heard  of  this,  she  nodded  her 
head  in  great  satisfaction.  She  had  been  sure  we 
should  hear  of  something  happening  in  Cranford  that 
night;  and  we  had  heard.  It  was  clear  enough  they 
had  first  proposed  to  attack  her  house  ;  but  when  they 
saw  that  she  and  Betty  were  on  their  guard,  and  had 
carried  off  the  plate,  they  had  changed  their  tactic? 
and  gone  to  Mrs.  Jamieson's  and  no  one  knew  what 
might  have  happened  if  Carlo  had  not  barked,  like  a 
good  dog  as  he  was  ! 

Poor  Carlo  !  his  barking  days  were  nearly  over. 
Whether  the  gang  who  infested  the  neighbourhood 
were  afraid  of  him,  or  whether  they  were  revengeful 
enough,  for  the  way  in  which  he  had  baffled  them  on 
the  night  in  question,  to  poison  him  ;  or  whether,  as 
some  among  the  more  uneducated  people  thought,  he 
died  of  apoplexy,  brought  on  by  too  much  feeding  and 
too  little  exercise ;  at  any  rate,  it  is  certain  that,  two 
days  after  this  eventful  night.  Carlo  was  found  dead, 
with  his  poor  little  legs  stretched  out  stiff  in  the  atti- 
tude of  running,  as  if  by  such  unusual  exertion  he 
could  escape  the  sure  pursuer.  Death. 

We  were  all  sorry  for  C^rlo,  the  old  familiar  friend 


THE  PANIC  169 

who  had  snapped  at  us  for  so  many  years ;  and  the 
mysterious  mode  of  his  death  made  us  very  uncom- 
fortable. Could  Signor  Brunoni  be  at  the  bottom  of 
this  ?  He  had  apparently  killed  a  canary  with  only  a 
word  of  command  ;  his  will  seemed  of  deadly  force  ; 
who  knew  but  what  he  might  yet  be  lingering  in  the 
neighbourhood  willing  all  sorts  of  awful  things! 

We  whispered  these  fancies  among  ourselves  in  the 
evenings ;  but  in  the  mornings  our  courage  came  back 
with  the  daylight,  and  in  a  week's  time  we  had  got 
over  the  shock  of  Carlo's  death ;  all  but  Mrs.  Jamie- 
son.  She,  poor  thing,  felt  it  as  she  had  felt  no  event 
since  her  husband's  death ;  indeed  Miss  Pole  said, 
that,  as  the  Honourable  Mr.  Jamieson  drank  a  good 
deal,  and  occasioned  her  much  uneasiness,  it  was  pos- 
siblfe  that  Carlo's  death  might  be  the  greater  affliction. 
But  there  was  always  a  tinge  of  cynicism  in  Miss 
Pole's  remarks.  However,  one  thing  was  clear  and 
certain  —  it  was  necessary  for  Mrs.  Jamieson  to  have 
some  change  of  scene ;  and  Mr.  Mulliner  was  very 
impressive  on  this  point,  shaking  his  head  whenever 
we  inquired  after  his  mistress,  and  speaking  of  her 
loss  of  appetite  and  bad  nights  very  ominously ;  and 
with  justice  too,  for  if  she  had  two  characteristics  in 
her  natural  state  of  health  they  were  a  faciUty  of  eat- 
ing and  sleeping.  If  she  could  neither  eat  nor  sleep, 
she  must  be  indeed  out  of  spirits  and  out  of  health. 

Lady  Glenmire  (who  had  evidently  taken  very 
kindly  to  Cranford)  did  not  like  the  idea  of  Mrs. 
Jamieson's  going  to  Cheltenham,  and  more  than  once 
insinuated  pretty  plainly  that  it  was  Mr.  Mulliner's 
doing,  who  had  been  much  alarmed  on  the  occasion 


170  CRANFORD 

of  the  house  being  attacked,  and  since  had  said,  more 
than  once,  that  he  felt  it  a  very  responsible  charge  to 
have  to  defend  so  many  women.  Be  that  as  it 
might,  Mrs.  Jamieson  went  to  Cheltenham,  escorted 
by  Mr.  MuUiner;  and  Lady  Glenmire  remained  in 
possession  of  the  house,  her  ostensible  office  being  to 
take  care  that  the  maid-servants  did  not  pick  up  fol- 
lowers. She  made  a  very  pleasant-looking  dragon ; 
and,  as  soon  as  it  was  arranged  for  her  stay  in  Cran- 
ford,  she  found  out  that  Mrs.  Jamieson's  visit  to  Chel- 
tenham was  just  the  best  thing  in  the  world.  She 
had  let  her  house  in  Edinburgh,  and  was  for  the 
time  houseless,  so  the  charge  of  her  sister-in-law's 
comfortable  abode  was  very  convenient  and  accept- 
able. 

Miss  Pole  was  very  much  inclined  to  instal  herself 
as  a  heroine,  because  of  the  decided  steps  she  had 
taken  in  flying  from  the  two  men  and  one  woman, 
whom  she  entitled  "  that  murderous  gang."  She  de- 
scribed their  appearance  in  glowing  colours,  and  I 
noticed  that  every  time  she  went  over  the  story  some 
fresh  trait  of  villany  was  added  to  their  appearance. 
One  was  tall  —  he  grew  to  be  gigantic  in  height  before 
we  had  done  with  him  ;  he  of  course  had  black  hair  — 
and  by  and  by  it  hung  in  elf-locks  over  his  forehead 
and  down  his  back.  The  other  was  short  and  broad 
—  and  a  hump  sprouted  out  on  his  shoulder  before  we 
heard  the  last  of  him  ;  he  had  red  hair —  which  deep- 
ened into  carroty ;  and  she  was  almost  sure  he  had  a 
cast  in  the  eye  —  a  decided  squint.  As  for  the  woman, 
her  eyes  glared,  and  she  was  masculine  looking  — 
a  perfect  virago ;  most   probably  a  man  dressed   in 


THE  PANIC  171 

woman's  clothes :  afterwards,  we  heard  of  a  beard  on 
her  chin,  and  a  manly  voice  and  a  stride. 

If  Miss  Pole  was  delighted  to  recount  the  events 'of 
that  afternoon  to  all  inquirers,  others  were  not  so  proud 
of  their  adventures  in  the  robbery  line.  Mr.  Hog- 
gins, the  surgeon,  had  been  attacked  at  his  own  door  by 
two  ruffians,  who  were  concealed  in  the  shadow  of  the 
porch,  and  so  effectually  silenced  him  that  he  was 
robbed  in  the  interval  between  ringing  his  bell  and  the 
servant's  answering  it.  Miss  Pole  was  sure  it  would 
turn  out  that  this  robbery  had  been  committed  by 
"her  men,"  and  went  the  very  day  she  heard  the 
report  to  have  her  teeth  examined,  and  to  question 
Mr.  Hoggins.  She  came  to  us  afterwards ;  so  we 
heard  what  she  had  heard,  straight  and  direct  from 
the  source,  while  we  were  yet  in  the  excitement  and 
flutter  of  the  agitation  caused  by  the  first  intelligence  ; 
for  the  event  had  only  occurred  the  night  before. 

"Well!"  said  Miss  Pole,  sitting  down  with  the 
decision  of  a  person  who  has  made  up  her  mind  as  to 
the  nature  of  life  and  the  world  (and  such  people 
never  tread  lightly,  or  seat  themselves  without  a 
bump),  "well, Miss  Matty!  men  will  be  men.  Every 
mother's  son  of  them  wishes  to  be  considered  Sam- 
son and  Solomon  rolled  into  one  —  too  strong  ever 
to  be  beaten  or  discomfited  —  too  wise  ever  to  be  out- 
witted. If  you  will  notice,  they  have  always  foreseen 
events,  though  they  never  tell  one  for  one's  warning 
before  the  events  happen.  My  father  was  a  man,  and 
I  know  the  sex  pretty  well." 

She  had  talked  herself  out  of  breath,  and  we  should 
have  been  very  glad  to  fill  up  the  necessary  pause  as 


172  CRANFORD 

chorus,  but  we  did  not  exactly  know  what  to  say,  or 
which  man  had  suggested  this  diatribe  against  the 
sex ;  so  we  only  joined  in  generally,  with  a  grave  shake 
of  the  head,  and  a  soft  murmur  of  "  They  are  very 
incomprehensible,  certainly ! " 

"  Now,  only  think,"  said  she.  "  There,  I  have 
undergone  the  risk  of  having  one  of  my  remaining 
teeth  drawn  (for  one  is  terribly  at  the  mercy  of  any 
surgeon-dentist ;  and  I,  for  one,  always  speak  them 
fair  till  I  have  got  my  mouth  out  of  their  clutches), 
and,  after  all,  Mr.  Hoggins  is  too  much  of  a  man  to 
own  that  he  was  robbed  last  night." 

"Not  robbed  !"  exclaimed  the  chorus. 

"  Don't  tell  me  ! "  Miss  Pole  exclaimed,  angry  that 
we  could  be  for  a  moment  imposed  upon.  "  I  believe 
he  was  robbed,  just  as  Betty  told  me,  and  he  is 
ashamed  to  own  it ;  and,  to  be  sure,  it  was  very  silly 
of  him  to  be  robbed  just  at  his  own  door ;  I  dare- 
say he  feels  that  such  a  thing  won't  raise  him  in  the 
eyes  of  Cranford  society,  and  is  anxious  to  conceal 
it  —  but  he  need  not  have  tried  to  impose  upon  me 
by  saying  I  must  have  heard  an  exaggerated  account 
of  some  petty  theft  of  a  neck  of  mutton,  which,  it 
seems,  was  stolen  out  of  the  safe  in  his  yard  last 
week ;  he  had  the  impertinence  to  add,  he  believed 
that  that  was  taken  by  the  cat.  I  have  no  doubt,  if 
I  could  get  at  the  bottom  of  it,  it  was  that  Irishman 
dressed  up  in  woman's  clothes,  who  came  spying 
about  my  house,  with  the  story  about  the  starving 
children." 

After  we  had  duly  condemned  the  want  of  candour 
which  Mr.  Hoggins  had  evinced,  and  abused  men  in 


THE  PANIC  173 

general,  taking  him  for  the  representative  and  type, 
we  got  round  to  the  subject  about  which  we  had  been 
talking  when  Miss  Pole  came  in ;  namely,  how  far,  in 
the  present  disturbed  state  of  the  country,  we  could 
venture  to  accept  an  invitation  which  Miss  Matty  had 
just  received  from  Mrs.  Forrester,  to  come  as  usual 
and  keep  the  anniversary  of  her  wedding-day  by 
drinking  tea  with  her  at  five  o'clock,  and  playing  a 
quiet  pool  afterwards.  Mrs.  Forrester  had  said  that 
she  asked  us  with  some  diffidence,  because  the  roads 
were,  she  feared,  very  unsafe.  But  she  suggested 
that  perhaps  one  of  us  would  not  object  to  take  the 
sedan,  and  that  the  others,  by  walking  briskly,  might 
keep  up  with  the  long  trot  of  the  chairmen,  and  so 
we  might  all  arrive  safely  at  Over  Place,  a  suburb  of 
the  town.  (No ;  that  is  too  large  an  expression :  a 
small  cluster  of  houses  separated  from  Cranford  by 
about  two  hundred  yards  of  a  dark  and  lonely  lane.) 
There  was  no  doubt  but  that  a  similar  note  was  await- 
ing Miss  Pole  at  home  ;  so  her  call  was  a  very  fortu- 
nate affair,  as  it  enabled  us  to  consult  together.  .  .  . 
We  would  all  much  rather  have  declined  this  invita- 
tion ;  but  we  felt  that  it  would  not  be  quite  kind  to 
Mrs.  Forrester,  who  would  otherwise  be  left  to  a  soli- 
tary retrospect  of  her  not  very  happy  or  fortunate  life. 
Miss  Matty  and  Miss  Pole  had  been  visitors  on  this 
occasion  for  many  years,  and  now  they  gallantly  de- 
termined to  nail  their  colours  to  the  mast,  and  to  go 
through  Darkness-lane  rather  than  fail  in  loyalty  to 
their  friend. 

But  when  the  evening  came,  Miss  Matty  (for  it  was 
she  who  was  voted  into  the  chair,  as  she  had  a  cold), 


174 


CRANFORD 


before  being  shut  down  in  the  sedan,  like  jack-in-a- 
box,  implored  the  chairman,  whatever  might  befall, 
not  to  run  away  and  leave  her  fastened  up  there,  to 
be  murdered ;  and  even  after  they  had  promised,  I 
saw  her  tighten  her  features  into  the  stern  determina- 


"  Implored  the  chairman:' 


tion  of  a  martyr,  and  she  gave  me  a  melancholy  and 
ominous  shake  of  the  head  through  the  glass.  How- 
ever, we  got  there  safely,  only  rather  out  of  breath, 
for  it  was  who  could  trot  hardest  through  Darkness- 
lane,  and  I  am  afraid  poor  Miss  Matty  was  sadly 
jolted. 


THE  PANIC  175 

Mrs.  Forrester  had  made  extra  preparations,  in 
acknowledgment  of  our  exertion  in  coming  to  see 
her  through  such  dangers.  The  usual  forms  of  gen- 
teel ignorance  as  to  what  her  servants  might  send  up 
were  all  gone  through  ;  and  harmony  and  Preference 
seemed  likely  to  be  the  order  of  the  evening,  but  for 
an  interesting  conversation  that  began  I  don't  know 
how,  but  which  had  relation,  of  course,  to  the  rob- 
bers who  infested  the  neighbourhood  of  Cranford. 

Having  braved  the  dangers  of  Darkness-lane,  and 
thus  having  a  little  stock  of  reputation  for  courage  to 
fall  back  upon  ;  and  also,  I  daresay,  desirous  of  prov- 
ing ourselves  superior  to  men  {videlicet  Mr.  Hog- 
gins) in  the  article  of  candour,  we  began  to  relate 
our  individual  fears,  and  the  private  precautions  we 
each  of  us  took.  I  owned  that  my  pet  apprehension 
was  eyes  —  eyes  looking  at  me,  and  watching  me, 
glittering  out  from  some  dull,  flat,  wooden  surface ; 
and  that  if  I  dared  to  go  up  to  my  looking-glass  when 
I  was  panic-stricken,  I  should  certainly  turn  it  round, 
with  its  back  towards  me,  for  fear  of  seeing  eyes 
behind  me  looking  out  of  the  darkness.  I  saw  Miss 
Matty  nerving  herself  up  for  a  confession ;  and  at 
last  out  it  came.  She  owned  that,  ever  since  she  had 
been  a  girl,  she  had  dreaded  being  caught  by  her  last 
leg,  just  as  she  was  getting  into  bed,  by  some  one 
concealed  under  it.  She  said,  when  she  was  younger 
and  more  active,  she  used  to  take  a  flying  leap  from 
a  distance,  and  so  bring  both  her  legs  up  safely  into 
bed  at  once ;  but  that  this  had  always  annoyed  Deb- 
orah, who  piqued  herself  upon  getting  into  bed 
gracefully,  and  she  had  given  it  up  in  consequence. 


176  CR AN  FORD 

But  now  the  old  terror  would  often  come  over  her, 
especially  since  Miss  Pole's  house  had  been  attacked 
(we  had  got  quite  to  believe  in  the  fact  of  the  attack 
having  taken  place),  and  yet  it  was  very  unpleasant 
to  think  of  looking  under  a  bed,  and  seeing  a  man 
concealed,  with  a  great,  fierce  face  staring  out  at  you ; 
so  she  had  bethought  herself  of  something  —  perhaps 
I  had  noticed  that  she  had  told  Martha  to  buy  her  a 
penny  ball,  such  as  children  play  with  —  and  now  she 
rolled  this  ball  under  the  bed  every  night ;  if  it  came 
out  on  the  other  side,  well  and  good ;  if  not  she 
always  took  care  to  have  her  hand  on  the  bell-rope, 
and  meant  to  call  out  John  and  Harry,  just  as  if  she 
expected  men-servants  to  answer  her  ring. 

We  all  applauded  this  ingenious  contrivance,  and 
Miss  Matty  sank  back  into  satisfied  silence,  with  a 
look  at  Mrs.  Forrester  as  if  to  ask  for  her  private 
weakness. 

Mrs.  Forrester  looked  askance  at  Miss  Pole,  and 
tried  to  change  the  subject  a  little  by  telling  us  that 
she  had  borrowed  a  boy  from  one  of  the  neiglibour- 
ing  cottages  and  promised  his  parents  a  hundred- 
weight of  coals  at  Christmas,  and  his  supper  every 
evening,  for  the  loan  of  him  at  nights.  She  had 
instructed  him  in  his  possible  duties  when  he  first 
came ;  and,  finding  him  sensible,  she  had  given  him 
the  Major's  sword  (the  Major  was  her  late  husband), 
and  desired  him  to  put  it  very  carefully  behind  his 
pillow  at  night,  turning  the  edge  towards  the  head 
of  the  pillow.  He  was  a  sharp  lad,  she  was  sure ; 
for,  spying  out  the  Major's  cocked  hat,  he  had  said, 
if  he  might  have  that  to  wear,  he  was  sure  he  could 


THE  PANIC 


177 


frighten  two  Englishmen,  or  four  Frenchmen,  any 
day.  But  she  had  impressed  upon  him  anew  that  he 
was  to  lose  no  time  in  putting  on  hats  or  anything 
else ;  but,  if  he  heard  any  noise,  he  was  to  run  at  it 


"  He  was  a  sharp  lad." 


with  his  drawn  sword.  On  my  suggesting  that  some 
accident  might  occur  from  such  slaughterous  and  in- 
discriminate directions,  and  that  he  might  rush  on 
Jenny  getting  up  to  wash,  and  have  spitted  her  before 
he  had  discovered  that  she  was  not  a  Frenchman, 


1 78  CRANFORD 

Mrs.  Forrester  said  she  did  not  think  that  that  was 
lilcely,  for  he  was  a  very  sound  sleeper,  and  generally 
had  to  be  well  shaken  or  cold-pigged  in  a  morning 
before  they  could  rouse  him.  She  sometimes  thought 
such  dead  sleep  must  be  owing  to  the  hearty  suppers 
the  poor  lad  ate,  for  he  was  half-star\ed  at  home, and 
she  told  Jenny  to  see  that  he  got  a  good  meal  at 
night. 

Still  this  was  no  confession  of  Mrs.  Forrester's 
peculiar  timidity,  and  we  urged  her  to  tell  us  what 
she  thought  would  frighten  her  more  than  anything. 
She  paused,  and  stirred  the  fire,  and  snuffed  the 
candles,  and  then  she  said,  in  a  sounding  whisper  — 

"Ghosts!" 

She  looked  at  Miss  Pole,  as  much  as  to  say  she 
had  declared  it,  and  would  stand  by  it.  Such  a  look 
was  a  challenge  in  itself.  Miss  Pole  came  down  upon 
her  with  indigestion,  spectral  illusions,  optical  delu- 
sions, and  a  great  deal  out  of  Dr.  Ferrier  and  Dr. 
Hibbert  besides.  Miss  Matty  had  rather  a  leaning  to 
ghosts,  as  I  have  mentioned  before,  and  what  little 
she  did  say  was  all  on  Mrs.  Forrester's  side,  who, 
emboldened  by  sympathy,  protested  that  ghosts  were 
a  part  of  her  religion  ;  that  surely  she,  the  widow  of 
a  Major  in  the  army,  knew  what  to  be  frightehed  at, 
and  what  not ;  in  short,  I  never  saw  Mrs.  Forrester  so 
warm  either  before  or  since,  for  she  was  a  gentle, 
meek,  enduring  old  lady  in  most  things.  Not  all  the 
elder-wine  that  ever  was  mulled  could  this  night  wash 
out  the  remembrance  of  this  difference  between  Miss 
Pole  and  her  hostess.  Indeed,  when  the  elder-wine 
was  brought  in,  it  gave  rise  to  a  new  burst  of  discus- 


THE  PANIC  179 

sion  •,  for  Jenny,  the  little  maiden  who  staggered  under 
the  tray,  had  to  give  evidence  of  having  seen  a  ghost 
with  her  own  eyes,  not  so  many  nights  ago,  in  Dark- 
ness-lane, the  very  lane  we  were  to  go  through  on  our 
way  home. 

In  spite  of  the  uncomfortable  feeling  which  this  last 
consideration  gave  me,  I  could  not  help  being  amused 
at  Jenny's  position,  which  was  exceedingly  like  that  of 
a  witness  being  examined  and  cross-examined  by  two 
counsel  who  are  not  at  all  scrupulous  about  asking 
leading  questions.  The  conclusion  I  arrived  at  was, 
that  Jenny  had  certainly  seen  something  beyond  what 
a  fit  of  indigestion  would  have  caused.  A  lady  all  in 
white,  and  without  her  head,  was  what  she  deposed 
and  adhered  to,  supported  by  a  consciousness  of  the 
secret  sympathy  of  her  mistress  under  the  withering 
scorn  with  which  Miss  Pole  regarded  her.  And  not 
only  she,  but  many  others,  had  seen  this  headless 
lady,  who  sat  by  the  roadside  wringing  her  hands  as 
in  deep  grief.  Mrs.  Forrester  looked  at  us  from  time 
to  time  with  an  air  of  conscious  triumph ;  but  then 
she  had  not  to  pass  through  Darkness-lane  before  she 
could  bury  herself  beneath  her  own  familiar  bed- 
clothes. 

We  preserved  a  discreet  silence  as  to  the  headless 
lady  while  we  were  putting  on  our  things  to  go  home, 
for  there  was  no  knowing  how  near  the  ghostly  head 
and  ears  might  be,  or  what  spiritual  connection  they 
might  be  keeping  up  with  the  unhappy  body  in 
Darkness-lane ;  and,  therefore,  even  Miss  Pole  felt 
that  it  was  as  well  not  to  speak  lightly  on  such  sub- 
jects, for  fear  of  vexing  or  insulting  that  woe-begone 


180  CRANFORD 

trunk.  At  least,  so  I  conjecture ;  for,  instead  of  tht 
busy  clatter  usual  in  the  operation,  we  tied  on  oui 
cloaks  as  sadly  as  mutes  at  a  funeral.  Miss  Matty 
drew  the  curtains  round  the  windows  of  the  chair  to 
shut  out  disagreeable  sights,  and  the  men  (either  be- 
cause they  were  in  spirits  that  their  labours  were  sc 
nearly  ended,  or  because  they  were  going  down  hill) 
set  off  at  such  a  round  and  merry  pace  that  it  was  all 
Miss  Pole  and  I  could  do  to  keep  up  with  them.  She 
had  breath  for  nothing  beyond  an  imploring  *'  Don't 
leave  me  !  "  uttered  as  she  clutched  my  arm  so  tightl)i 
that  I  could  not  have  quitted  her,  ghost  or  no  ghost. 
What  a  relief  it  was  when  the  men,  weary  of  their 
burden  and  their  quick  trot,  stopped  just  where 
Headingley-causeway  branches  off  from  Darkness- 
lane  !  Miss  Pole  unloosed  me  and  caught  at  one 
of  the  men. 

.  "  Could  not  you  —  could  not  you  take  Miss  Matty 
round  by  Headingley-causeway  ?  —  the  pavement 
in  Darkness-lane  jolts  so,  and  she  is  not  very 
strong." 

A  smothered  voice  was  heard  from  the  inside  of 
the  chair : 

"  Oh  !  pray  go  on  !  What  is  the  matter  ?  What 
is  the  matter  ?  I  will  give  you  sixpence  more  to  go 
on  very  fast ;  pray  don't  stop  here." 

"  And  I'll  give  you  a  shilling,"  said  Miss  Pole,  with 
tremulous  dignity,  "  if  you'll  go  by  Headingley-cause- 
way." 

The  two  men  grunted  acquiescence  and  took  up  the 
chair,  and  went  along  the  causeway,  which  certainly 
answered  Miss  Pole's  kind  purpose   of  saving  Miss 


THE  PANIC  181 

Matty's  bones ;  for  it  was  covered  with  soft  thick 
mud,  and  even  a  fall  there  would  have  been  easy  till 
the  getting  up  came,  when  there  might  have  been 
some  difficulty  in  extrication. 


The  next  morning  I  met  Lady  Glenmire  and  Miss 
Pole  setting  out  on  a  long  walk  to  find  some  old 
woman  who  was  famous  in  the  neighbourhood  for  her 
skill  in  knitting  woollen  stockings.  Miss  Pole  said  to 
me,  with  a  smile  half-kindly  and  half-contemptuous 
upon  her  countenance,  "  I  have  been  just  telling  Lady 
Glenmire  of  our  poor  friend  Mrs.  Forrester,  and  her 
terror  of  ghosts.  It  comes  from  living  so  much  alone, 
and  listening  to  the  bug-a-boo  stories  of  that  Jenny 
of  hers."  She  was  so  calm  and  so  much  above  super- 
stitious fears  herself  that  I  was  almost  ashamed  to  say 
how  glad  I  had  been  of  her  Headingley-causeway 
proposition  the  night  before,  and  turned  off  the  con- 
versation to  something  else. 

In  the  afternoon  Miss  Pole  called  on  Miss  Matty  to 
tell  her  of  the  adventure  —  the  real  adventure  the^ 
182 


SAMUEL  BROWN  183 

had  met  with  on  their  morning's  walk.  They  had 
been  peq^lexed  about  the  exact  path  which  they  were 
to  take  across  the  fields  in  order  to  find  the  knitting 
old  woman,  and  had  stopped  to  inquire  at  a  little  way- 
side public-house,  standing  on  the  high  road  to  Lon- 
don, about  three  miles  from  Cranford.  The  good 
woman  had  asked  them  to  sit  down  and  rest  them- 
selves while  she  fetched  her  husband,  who  could  di- 
rect them  better  than  she  could  ;  and,  while  they  were 
sitting  in  the  sanded  parlour,  a  little  girl  came  in. 
They  thought  that  she  belonged  to  the  landlady,  and 
began  some  trifling  conversation  with  her;  but,  on 
Mrs.  Roberts's  return,  she  told  them  that  the  little 
thing  was  the  only  child  of  a  couple  who  were  staying 
in  the  house.  And  then  she  began  a  long  story,  out 
of  which  Lady  Glenmire  and  Miss  Pole  could  only 
gather  one  or  two  decided  facts,  which  were  that, 
about  six  weeks  ago,  a  light  spring  cart  had  broken 
down  just  before  their  door,  in  which  there  were  two 
men,  one  woman,  and  this  child.  One  of  the  men 
was  seriously  hurt  —  no  bones  broken,  only  "  shaken," 
the  landlady  called  it ;  but  he  had  probably  sustained 
some  severe  internal  injury,  for  he  had  languished  in 
their  house  ever  since,  attended  by  his  wife,  the  mother 
of  this  little  girl.  Miss  Pole  had  asked  what  he  was, 
what  he  looked  like.  And  Mrs.  Roberts  had  made 
answer  that  he  was  not  like  a  gentleman,  nor  yet  like 
a  common  person ;  if  it  had  not  been  that  he  and  his 
wife  were  such  decent,  quiet  people,  she  could  almost 
have  thought  he  was  a  mountebank,  or  something  of 
that  kind,  for  they  had  a  great  box  in  the  cart,  full  of 
she  did  not  know  what.     She  had  helped  to  unpack 


184  CRANFORD 

it,  and  take  out  their  linen  and  clothes,  when  tne 
other  man  —  his  twin  brother,  she  believed  he  was  — 
had  gone  off  with  the  horse  and  cart. 

Miss  Pole  had  begun  to  have  her  suspicions  at  this 
point,  and  expressed  her  idea  that  it  was  rather  strange 
that  the  box  and  cart  and  horse  and  all  should  have 
disappeared  ;  but  good  Mrs.  Roberts  seemed  to  have 
become  quite  indignant  at  Miss  Pole's  implied 
suggestion  ;  in  fact,  Miss  Pole  said,  she  was  as  angry 
as  if  Miss  Pole  had  told  her  that  she  herself  was  a 
swindler.  As  the  best  way  of  convincing  the  ladies, 
she  bethought  her  of  begging  them  to  see  the  wife  ; 
and,  as  Miss  Pole  said,  there  was  no  doubting  the 
honest,  worn,  bronze  face  of  the  woman,  who,  at  the 
first  tender  word  from  Lady  Glenmire,  burst  into  tears, 
which  she  was  too  weak  to  check  until  some  word  from 
the  landlady  made  her  swallow  down  her  sobs,  in  order 
that  she  might  testify  to  the  Christian  kindness  shown 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Roberts.  Miss  Pole  came  round 
with  a  swing  to  as  vehement  a  belief  in  the  sorrowful 
tale  as  she  had  been  sceptical  before ;  and,  as  a  proof 
of  this,  her  energy  in  the  poor  sufferer's  behalf  was 
nothing  daunted  when  she  found  out  that  he,  and  no 
other,  was  our  Signor  Brunoni,  to  whom  all  Cranford 
had  been  attributing  all  manner  of  evil  this  six  weeks 
past  !  Yes  !  his  wife  said  his  proper  name  was  Sam- 
uel Brown  -^  "  Sam,"  she  called  him  —  but  to  the  last 
we  preferred  calling  him  "  the  Signor  "  ;  it  sounded  so 
much  better. 

The  end  of  their  conversation  with  the  Signora 
Brunoni  was  that  it  was  agreed  that  he  should  be 
placed  under  medical   advice,  and  for  any  expense 


SAMUEL  BROWN  185 

incurred  in  procuring  this  Lady  Glenmire  promised 
to  hold  herself  responsible,  and  had  accordingly  gone 
to  Mr.  Hoggins  to  beg  him  to  ride  over  to  the  "  Rising 
Sun  "  that  very  afternoon,  and  examine  into  the  signor's 
real  state  ;  and,  as  Miss  Pole  said,  if  it  was  desirable 
to  remove  him  to  Cranford  to  be  more  immediately 
under  Mr.  Hoggins's  eye,  she  would  undertake  to 
seek  for  lodgings  and  arrange  about  the  rent.  Mrs. 
Roberts  had  been  as  kind  as  could  be  all  throughout, 
but  it  was  evident  that  their  long  residence  there  had 
been  a  slight  inconvenience. 

Before  Miss  Pole  left  us.  Miss  Matty  and  I  were  as 
full  of  the  morning's  adventure  as  she  was.  We  talked 
about  it  all  the  evening,  turning  it  in  every  possible 
light,  and  we  went  to  bed  anxious  for  the  morning, 
when  we  should  surely  hear  from  some  one  what  Mr. 
Hoggins  thought  and  recommended ;  for,  as  Miss 
Matty  observed,  though  Mr.  Hoggins  did  say  "  Jack's 
up,"  "a  fig  for  his  heels,"  and  called  Preference 
"  Pref,''  she  believed  he  was  a  very  worthy  man  and  a 
very  clever  surgeon.  Indeed,  we  were  rather  proud  of 
our  doctor  at  Cranford,  as  a  doctor.  We  often 
wished,  when  we  heard  of  Queen  Adelaide  or  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  being  ill,  that  they  would  send 
for  Mr.  Hoggins ;  but,  on  consideration,  we  were 
rather  glad  they  did  not,  for,  if  we  were  ailing,  what 
should  we  do  if  Mr.  Hoggins  had  been  appointed 
Physician-in-Ordinary  to  the  Royal  Family?  As  a 
surgeon  we  were  proud  of  him ;  but  as  a  man  —  or 
rather,  I  should  say,  as  a  gentleman  —  we  could  only 
shake  our  heads  over  his  name  and  himself,  and 
wished  that  he  had  read  Lord  Chesterfield's  Letters 


186  CRANFORD 

in  the  days  when  his  manners  were  susceptible  of 
improvement.  Nevertheless,  we  all  regarded  his 
dictum  in  the  signer's  case  as  infallible,  and  when 
he  said  that  with  care  and  attention  he  might  rally, 
we  had  no  more  fear  for  him. 


" Airing  tlie  Seuu/i  Liiaii" 

But,  although  we  had  no  more  fear,  everybody  did 
as  much  as  if  there  was  great  cause  for  anxiety  —  as 
indeed  there  was  until  Mr.  Hoggins  took  charge  of 
Iiim.  Miss  Pole  looked  out  clean  and  comfortable,  if 
homely,  lodgings ;  Miss  Matty  sent  the  sedan-chair 
for  him,  and  Martha  and  I  aired  it  well  before  it  left 
Cranford  by  holding  a  warming-pan  full  of  red-hot 


SAMUEL  BROWN  187 

coals  in  it,  and  then  shutting  it  up  close,  smoke  and 
all,  until  the  time  when  he  should  get  into  it  at  the 
"  Rising  Sun."  Lady  Glenmire  undertook  the  medical 
department  under  Mr.  Hoggins's  directions,  and  rum- 
maged up  all  Mrs.  Jamieson's  medicine  glasses,  and 
spoons,  and  bed-tables,  in  a  free-and-easy  way,  that 
made  Miss  Matty  feel  a  little  anxious  as  to  what  that 
lady  and  Mr.  Mulliner  might  say,  if  they  knew. 
Mrs.  Forrester  made  some  of  the  bread-jelly,  for 
which  she  was  so  famous,  to  have  ready  as  a  refresh- 
ment in  the  lodgings  when  he  should  arrive.  A 
present  of  this  bread-jelly  was  the  highest  mark  of 
favour  dear  Mrs.  Forrester  could  confer.  Miss  Pole 
had  once  asked  her  for  the  receipt,  but  she  had  met 
with  a  very  decided  rebuff;  that  lady  told  her  that 
she  could  not  part  with  it  to  any  one  during  her  life, 
and  that  after  her  death  it  was  bequeathed,  as  her 
executors  would  find,  to  Miss  Matty.  What  Miss 
Matty,  or,  as  Mrs.  Forrester  called  her  (remembering 
the  clause  in  her  will  and  the  dignity  of  the  occa- 
sion). Miss  Matilda  Jenkyns  —  might  choose  to  do 
with  the  receipt  when  it  came  into  her  possession  — 
whether  to  make  it  public,  or  to  hand  it  down  as  an 
heirloom  —  she  did  not  know,  nor  would  she  dictate. 
And  a  mould  of  this  admirable,  digestible,  unique 
bread-jelly  was  sent  by  Mrs.  Forrester  to  our  poor 
sick  conjuror.  Who  says  that  the  aristocracy  are 
proud?  Here  was  a  lady,  by  birth  a  Tyrrell,  and 
descended  from  the  great  Sir  Walter  that  shot  King 
Rufus,  and  in  whose  veins  ran  the  blood  of  him  who 
murdered  the  little  princes  in  the  Tower,  going  every 
day  to  see  what  dainty  dishes  she  could  prepare  for 


188  CRANFORD 

Samuel  Brown,  a  mountebank  !  But,  indeed,  it  was 
wonderful  to  see  what  kind  feelings  were  called  out 
by  this  poor  man's  coming  amongst  us.  And  also 
wonderful  to  see  how  the  great  Cranford  panic,  which 
had  been  occasioned  by  his  first  coming  in  his  Turk- 
ish dress,  melted  away  into  thin  air  on  his  second 
coming  —  pale  and  feeble,  and  with  heavy,  filmy  eyes, 
that  only  brightened  a  very  little  when  they  fell  upon 
the  countenance  of  his  faithful  wife,  or  their  pale  and 
sorrowful  little  girl. 

Somehow  we  all  forgot  to  be  afraid.  I  daresay  it 
was  that  finding  out  that  he,  who  had  first  excited 
our  love  of  the  marvellous  by  his  unprecedented  arts, 
had  not  sufficient  every-day  gifts  to  manage  a  shying 
horse,  made  us  feel  as  if  we  were  ourselves  again. 
Miss  Pole  came  with  her  little  basket  at  all  hours  of 
the  evening,  as  if  her  lonely  house  and  the  unfre- 
quented road  to  it  had  never  been  infested  by  that 
"murderous  gang";  Mrs.  Forrester  said  she  thought 
that  neither  Jenny  nor  she  need  mind  the  headless 
lady  who  wept  and  wailed  in  Darkness  Lane,  for 
surely  the  power  was  never  given  to  such  beings  to 
harm  those  who  went  about  to  try  to  do  what  little 
good  was  in  their  power,  to  which  Jenny  tremblingly 
assented ;  but  the  mistress's  theory  had  little  effect 
on  the  maid's  practice  until  she  had  sewn  two  pieces 
of  red  flannel  in  the  shape  of  a  cross  on  her  inner 
garment. 

I  found  Miss  Matty  covering  her  penny  ball  —  the 
ball  that  she  used  to  roll  under  her  bed  —  with  gay- 
coloured  worsted  in  rainbow  stripes. 

"  My  dear,"  said  she,  "  my  heart  is  sad  for  that  little 


SAMUEL   BROWN 


189 


careworn  child.  Although  her  father  is  a  conjuror, 
she  looks  as  if  she  had  never  had  a  good  game  of 
play  in  her  life.  I  used  to  make  very  pretty  balls  in 
this  way  when  I  was  a  girl,  and  I  thought  I  would  try 
if  I  could  not  make  this  one  smart  and  take  it  to 
Phoebe   this   afternoon.     I    think    'the  gang'   must 


"  The  boys  who  stole  the  apples'' 


have  left  the  neighbourhood,  for  one  does  not  hear 
any  more  of  their  violence  and  robbery  now." 

We  were  all  of  us  far  too  full  of  the  signor's  pre- 
carious state  to  talk  either  about  robbers  or  ghosts. 
Indeed,  Lady  Glenmire  said  she  never  had  heard  of 
any  actual  robberies,  except  that  two  little  boys  had 
stolen  some  apples  from  Farmer  Benson's  orchard, 
and  that  some  eggs  had  been  missed  on  a  market- 
day  oflf  widow  Hay  ward's  stall.     But  that  was  expect- 


£90  CRANFORD 

ing  too  much  of  us  ;  we  could  not  acknowledge  that 
we  had  only  had  this  small  foundation  for  all  our 
panic.  Miss  Pole  drew  herself  up  at  this  remark  of 
Lady  Glenmire's,  and  said  "  that  she  wished  she  could 
agree  with  her  as  to  the  very  small  reason  we  had 
had  for  alarm,  but  with  the  recollection  of  a  man  dis- 
guised as  a  woman  who  had  endeavoured  to  force 
himself  into  her  house  while  his  confederates  waited 
outside  ;  with  the  knowledge  gained  from  Lady  Glen- 
mire  herself,  of  the  footprints  seen  on  Mrs.  Jamieson's 
flower  borders  ;  with  the  fact  before  her  of  the  auda- 
cious robbery  committed  on  Mr.  Hoggins  at  his  own 

door "     But  here  Lady  Glenmire  broke  in  with 

a  very  strong  expression  of  doubt  as  to  whether  this 
last  story  was  not  an  entire  fabrication  founded  upon 
the  theft  of  a  cat ;  she  grew  so  red  while  she  was 
saying  all  this  that  I  was  not  surprised  at  Miss  Pole's 
manner  of  bridling  up,  and  I  am  certain,  if  Lady 
Glenmire  had  not  been  "her  ladyship,"  we  should 
have  had  a  more  emphatic  contradiction  than  the 
"Well,  to  be  sure!"  and  similar  fragmentary  ejacu- 
lations, which  were  all  that  she  ventured  upon  in 
my  lady''s  presence.  But  when  she  was  gone  Miss 
Pole  began  a  long  congratulation  to  Miss  Matty  that 
so  far  they  had  escaped  marriage,  which  she  noticed 
always  made  people  credulous  to  the  last  degree ; 
indeed,  she  thought  it  argued  great  natural  credulity 
in  a  woman  if  she  could  not  keep  herself  from  being 
married ;  and  in  what  Lady  Glenmire  had  said  about 
Mr.  Hoggins's  robbery  we  had  a  specimen  of  what 
people  came  to  if  they  gave  way  to  such  a  weakness ; 
evidently  Lady  Glenmire  would  swallow  anything  if 


SAMUEL  BROWN  191 

she  could  believe  the  poor  vamped-up  story  about  a 
neck  of  mutton  and  a  pussy  with  which  he  had  tried 
to  impose  on  Miss  Pole,  only  she  had  always  been  on 
her  guard  against  believing  too  much  of  what  men 
said. 

We  were  thankful,  as  Miss  Pole  desired  us  to  be, 
that  we  had  never  been  married ;  but  I  think,  of  the 
Jwo,  we  were  even  more  thankful  that  the  robbers 
had  left  Cranford ;  at  least  I  judge  so  from  a  speech 
of  Miss  Matty's  that  evening,  as  we  sat  over  the  fire, 
in  which  she  evidently  looked  upon  a  husband  as  a 
great  protector  against  thieves,  burglars,  and  ghosts  ; 
and  said  that  she  did  not  think  that  she  should  dare 
to  be  always  warning  young  people  against  matrimony, 
as  Miss  Pole  did  continually ;  to  be  sure,  marriage 
was  a  risk,  as  she  saw,  now  she  had  had  some  ex- 
perience ;  but  she  remembered  the  time  when  she 
had  looked  forward  to  being  married  as  much  as  any 
one. 

"Not  to  any  particular  person,  my  dear,"  said  she, 
hastily  checking  herself  up  as  if  she  were  afraid  of 
having  admitted  too  much  ;  "  only  the  old  story,  you 
know,  of  ladies  always  saying,  '  When  I  marry,'  and 
gentlemen,  '■If\  marry.'"  It  was  a  joke  spoken  in 
rather  a  sad  tone,  and  I  doubt  if  either  of  us  smiled ; 
but  I  could  not  see  Miss  Matty's  face  by  the  flickering 
fire-light.     In  a  little  while  she  continued  ^ — 

"  But,  after  all,  I  have  not  told  you  the  truth.  It 
is  so  long  ago,  and  no  one  ever  knew  how  much  I 
thought  of  it  at  the  time,  unless,  indeed,  my  dear 
mother  guessed ;  but  I  may  say  that  there  was  a  time 
when  I  did  not  think  I  should  have  been  only  Miss 


192  CRANFORD 

Matty  Jenkyns  all  my  life ;  for  even  if  I  did  meet 
with  any  one  who  wished  to  marry  me  now  (and,  as 
Miss  Pole  says,  one  is  never  too  safe),  I  could  not 
take  him  —  I  hope  he  would  not  take  it  too  much  to 
heart,  but  I  could  not  take  him  —  or  any  one  but  the 
person  I  once  thought  I  should  be  married  to ;  and 
he  is  dead  and  gone,  and  he  never  knew  how  it  all 
came  about  that  I  said  *  No,'  when  I    had  thought 

many  and  many  a  time Well,  ifs  no  matter 

what  I  thought.  God  ordains  it  all,  and  I  am  very 
happy,  my  dear.  No  one  has  such  kind  friends  as 
I,"  continued  she,  taking  my  hand  and  holding  it  in 
hers. 

If  I  had  never  known  of  Mr.  Holbrook,  I  could 
have  said  something  in  this  pause,  but  as  I  liad,  I 
could  not  think  of  anything  that  would  come  in 
naturally,  and  so  we  both  kept  silence  for  a  little 
time. 

"My  father  once  made  us,"  she  began,  "keep  a 
diarj',  in  two  columns ;  on  one  side  we  were  to  put 
down  in  the  morning  what  we  thought  would  be  the 
course  and  events  of  the  coming  day,  and  at  night 
we  were  to  put  down  on  the  other  side  what  really 
had  happened.  It  would  be  to  some  people  rather 
a  sad  way  of  telling  their  lives  "  (a  tear  dropped  upon 
my  hand  at  these  words)  —  "I  don't  mean  that  mine 
has  been  sad,  only  so  very  different  to  what  I 
expected.  I  remember,  one  winter's  evening,  sitting 
over  our  bedroom  fire  with  Deborah  —  I  remember 
it  as  if  it  were  yesterday  —  and  we  were  planning 
our  future  lives,  both  of  us  were  planning,  though 
only  she  talked  about  it.     She  said  she  should  like 


SAMUEL  BROWN  193 

to  marry  an  archdeacon,  and  write  his  charges  ;  and 
you  know,  my  dear,  she  never  was  married,  and,  for 
auglit  I  know,  she  never  spoke  to  an  unmarried  arch- 
deacon in  her  life.  I  never  was  ambitious,  nor  could 
I  have  written  charges,  but  I  thought  I  could  man- 
age a  house  (my  mother  used  to  call  me  her  right 
hand),  and  I  was  always  so  fond  of  little  children  — 
the  shyest  babies  would  stretch  out  their  little  arms 
to  come  to  me ;  when  I  was  a  girl,  I  was  half  my 
leisure  time  nursing  in  the  neighbouring  cottages ; 
but  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  when  I  grew  sad  and 
grg,ve  —  which  I  did  a  year  or  two  after  this  time  — 
the  little  things  drew  back  from  me,  and  I  am  afraid 
I  lost  the  knack,  though  I  am  just  as  fond  of  children 
as  ever,  and  have  a  strange  yearning  at  my  heart 
whenever  I  see  a  mother  with  her  baby  in  her  arms. 
Nay,  my  dear  "  (and  by  a  sudden  blaze  which  sprang 
up  from  a  fall  of  the  unstirred  coals,  I  saw  that  her 
eyes  were  full  of  tears  —  gazing  intently  on  some 
vision  of  what  might  have  been),  "do  you  know,  I 
dream  sometimes  that  I  have  a  little  child  —  always 
the  same  —  a  little  girl  of  about  two  years  old;  she 
never  grows  older,  though  I  have  dreamt  about  her 
for  many  years.  I  don't  think  I  ever  dream  of  any 
words  or  sounds  she  makes ;  she  is  very  noiseless 
and  still,  but  she  comes  to  me  when  she  is  very  sorry 
or  very  glad,  and  I  have  wakened  with  the  clasp  of 
her  dear  little  arms  round  my  neck.  Only  last  night 
—  perhaps  because  I  had  gone  to  sleep  thinking  of 
this  ball  for  Phoebe  —  my  little  darling  came  in  my 
dream,  and  put  up  her  mouth  to  be  kissed,  just  as  I 
have  seen  real  babies  do    to   real    mothers    before 


194  CRANFORD 

going  to  bed.  But  all  this  is  nonsense,  dear  !  only 
don't  be  frightened  by  Miss  Pole  from  being  married. 
I  can  fancy  it  may  be  a  very  happy  state,  and  a  little 
credulity  helps  one  on  through  life  very  smoothly  — 
better  than  always  doubting  and  doubting  and  seeing 
difficulties  and  disagreeables  in  everything." 

If  I  had  been  inclined  to  be  daunted  from  matri- 
mony, it  would  not  have  been  Miss  Pole  to  do  it ;  it 
would  have  been  the  lot  of  poor  Signor  Brunoni  and 
his  wife.  And  yet  again,  it  was  an  encouragement  to 
see  how,  through  all  their  cares  and  sorrows,  they 
thought  of  each  other  and  not  of  themselves ;  and 
how  keen  were  their  joys,  if  they  only  passed  through 
each  other,  or  through  the  little  Phoebe. 

The  signora  told  me,  one  day,  a  good  deal  about 
their  lives  up  to  this  period.  It  began  by  my  asking 
her  whether  Miss  Pole's  story  of  the  twin  brothers 
was  true ;  it  sounded  so  wonderful  a  likeness,  that  I 
should  have  had  my  doubts,  if  Miss  Pole  had  not  been 
unmarried.  But  the  signora,  or  (as  we  found  out  she 
preferred  to  be  called)  Mrs.  Brown,  said  it  was  quite 
true ;  that  her  brother-in-law  was  by  many  taken  for 
her  husband,  which  was  of  great  assistance  to  them 
in  their  profession  ;  "  though,"  she  continued,  "  how 
people  can  mistake  Thomas  for  the  real  Signor  Bru- 
noni, I  can't  conceive ;  but  he  says  they  do ;  so  I  sup- 
pose I  must  believe  him.  Not  but  what  he  is  a  very 
good  man ;  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  how  we  should 
have  paid  our  bill  at  the  '  Rising  Sun '  but  for  the 
money  he  sends ;  but  people  must  know  very  little 
about  art  if  they  can  take  him  for  my  husband.  Why, 
miss,  in  the  ball  trick,  where  my  husband  spreads  his 


SAMUEL  BROWN  195 

fingers  wide  and  throws  out  his  little  finger  with 
quite  an  air  and  a  grace,  Thomas  just  clumps  up  his 
liand  like  a  fist,  and  might  have  ever  so  many  balls 
hidden  in  it.  Besides,  he  has  never  been  in  India, 
and  knows  nothing  of  the  proper  sit  of  a  turban." 

"Have  you  been  in  India?"  said  I,  rather  aston- 
ished. 

"Oh  yes  !  many  a  year,  ma'am.  Sam  was  a  ser- 
geant in  the  31st;  and  when  the  regiment  was  or- 
dered to  India,  I  drew  a  lot  to  go,  and  I  was  more 
thankful  than  I  can  tell ;  for  it  seemed  as  if  it  would 
only  be  a  slow  death  to  me  to  part  from  my  husband. 
But,  indeed,  ma'am,  if  I  had  known  all,  I  don't  know 
whether  I  would  not  rather  have  died  there  and  then 
than  gone  through  what  I  have  done  since.  To  be 
sure,  I've  been  able  to  comfort  Sam,  and  to  be  with 
him ;  but,  ma'am,  I've  lost  six  children,"  said  she, 
looking  up  at  me  with  those  strange  eyes  that  I've 
never  noticed  but  in  mothers  of  dead  children  —  with 
a  kind  of  wild  look  in  them,  as  if  seeking  for  what 
they  never  more  might  find.  "  Yes  !  Six  children 
died  off,  like  little  buds  nipped  untimely,  in  that  cruel 
India.  I  thought,  as  each  died,  I  never  could  —  I 
never  would  —  love  a  child  again ;  and  when  the 
next  came  it  had  not  only  its  own  love,  but  the 
deeper  love  that  came  from  the  thoughts  of  its  little 
dead  brothers  and  sisters.  And  when  Phoebe  was 
coming,  I  said  to  my  husband,  '  Sam,  when  the  child 
is  born,  and  I  am  strong  I  shall  leave  you ;  it  will 
cut  my  heart  cruel ;  but  if  this  baby  dies  too,  I  shall 
go  mad ;  the  madness  is  in  me  now ;  but  if  you  let 
me  go  down  to  Calcutta,  carrying  my  baby  step  by 


196  CRANFORD 

step,  it  will,  maybe,  work  itself  off;  and  I  will  save, 
and  I  will  hoard,  and  I  will  beg  —  and  I  will  die,  to 
get  a  passage  home  to  England,  where  our  baby  may 
live.'  God  bless  him!  he  said  I  might  go;  and  he 
saved  up  his  pay,  and  I  saved  every  pice  I  could  get 
for  washing  or  any  way ;  and  when  Phoebe  came,  and 
I  grew  strong  again,  I  set  off.  It  was  very  lonely ; 
through  the  thick  foiests,  dark  again  with  their  heavy 
trees  —  along  by  the  river's  side  (but  I  had  been 
brought  up  near  the  Avon  in  Warwickshire,  so  that 
flowing  noise  sounded  like  home)  —  from  station  to 
station,  from  Indian  village  to  village,  I  went  along, 
carrying'  my  child.  I  had  seen  one  of  the  officers' 
ladies  with  a  little  picture,  ma'am  —  done  by  a  Catho- 
lic foreigner,  ma'am  —  of  the  Virgin  and  the  little 
Saviour,  ma'am.  She  had  him  on  her  arm,  and  her 
form  was  softly  curled  round  him,  and  their  cheeks 
touched.  Well,  when  I  went  to  bid  good-bye  to  this 
lady,  for  whom  I  had  washed,  she  cried  sadly ;  for 
she,  too,  had  lost  her  children,  but  she  had  not  an- 
other to  save,  like  me  ;  and  I  was  bold  enough  to  ask 
her,  would  she  give  me  that  print.  And  slie  cried  the 
more,  and  said  her  children  were  with  that  little  blessed 
Jesus ;  and  gave  it  me,  and  told  me  she  had  heard 
it  had  been  painted  on  the  bottom  of  a  cask,  which 
made  it  have  that  round  shape.  And  when  my  body 
was  very  weary,  and  my  heart  was  sick  (for  there  were 
times  when  I  misdoubted  if  I  could  ever  reach  my 
home,  and  there  were  times  when  I  thought  of  my 
husband,  and  one  time  when  I  thought  my  baby  was 
dying),  I  took  out  that  picture  and  looked  at  it,  till  I 
could  have  thought  the  mother  spoke  to  me,  and  com- 


SAMUEL  BROWN  197 

forted  me.  And  the  natives  were  very  kind.  We 
could  not  understand  one  another ;  but  they  saw  my 
baby  on  my  breast,  and  they  came  out  to  me,  and 
brought  me  rice  and  milk,  and  sometimes  flowers  —  I 
have  got  some  of  the  flowers  dried.  Then,  the  next 
morning,  I  was  so  tired ;  and  they  wanted  me  to  stay 
with  them  —  I  could  tell  that  —  and  tried  to  frighten 
me  from  going  into  the  deep  woods,  which,  indeed, 
looked  very  strange  and  dark ;  but  it  seemed  to  me 
as  if  Death  was  following  me  to  take  my  baby  away  from 
me  ;  and  as  if  I  must  go  on,  and  on  —  and  I  thought 
how  God  had  cared  for  mothers  ever  since  the  world 
was  made,  and  would  care  for  me ;  so  I  bade  them 
good-bye,  and  set  ofl"  afresh.  And  once  when  my 
baby  was  ill,  and  both  she  and  I  needed  rest,  He  led 
me  to  a  place  where  I  found  a  kind  Englishman 
lived,  right  in  the  midst  of  the  natives." 

"  And  you  reached  Calcutta  safely  at  last?  " 
"  Yes,  safely.  Oh !  when  I  knew  I  had  only  two 
days'  journey  more  before  me,  I  could  not  help  it, 
ma'am  —  it  might  be  idolatry,  I  cannot  tell  —  but  I 
was  near  one  of  the  native  temples,  and  I  went  into  it 
with  my  baby  to  thank  God  for  his  great  mercy ;  for 
it  seemed  to  me  that  where  others  had  prayed  before 
to  their  God,  in  their  joy  or  in  their  agony,  was  of  it- 
self a  sacred  place.  And  I  got  as  servant  to  an 
invalid  lady,  who  grew  quite  fond  of  my  baby  aboard- 
ship ;  and,  in  two  years'  time,  Sam  earned  his  dis- 
charge, and  came  home  to  me,  and  to  our  child. 
Then  he  had  to  fix  on  a  trade  ;  but  he  knew  of  none  ; 
and  once,  once  upon  a  time,  he  had  learnt  some 
tricks  from  an  Indian  juggler ;  so  he  set  up  conjuring, 


198  CRANFORD 

and  it  answered  so  well  that  he  took  Thomas  to  help 
him  —  as  his  man,  you  know,  not  as  another  conjuror, 
though  Thomas  has  set  it  up  now  on  his  own  hook. 
But  it  has  been  a  great  help  to  us  that  likeness  be- 
tween the  twins,  and  made  a  good  many  tricks  go  off 
well  that  they  made  up  together.  And  Thomas  is  a 
good  brother,  only  he  has  not  the  fine  carriage  of  my 
husband,  so  that  I  can't  think  how  he  can  be  taken 
for  Signor  Brunoni  himself,  as  he  says  he  is." 

"  Poor  little  Phoebe  ! "  said  I,  my  thoughts  going 
back  to  the  baby  she  carried  all  those  hundred  miles. 

"  Ah  !  you  may  think  so  !  I  never  thought  I  should 
have  reared  her,  though,  when  she  fell  ill  at  Chun- 
derabaddad ;  but  that  good  kind  Aga  Jenkyns  took 
us  in,  which  I  believe  was  the  very  saving  of  her." 

"Jenkyns  !  "  said  I. 

"Yes,  Jenkyns.  I  shall  think  all  people  of  thai 
name  are  kind ;  for  here  is  that  nice  old  lady  who 
comes  every  day  to  take  Phoebe  a  walk  ! " 

But  an  idea  had  flashed  through  my  head :  could 
the  Aga  Jenkyns  be  the  lost  Peter?  True,  he  was 
reported  by  many  to  be  dead.  But,  equally  true,  some 
had  said  that  he  had  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  Great 
Lama  of  Thibet.  Miss  Matty  thought  he  was  alive. 
I  would  make  further  inquiry. 


CrKjo^ecT  ib  ^   morriPcT. 

Was  the  "  poor  Peter  "  of  Cranford  the  Aga  Jen- 
kyns  of  Chunderabaddad,  or  was  he  not  ?  As  some- 
body says,  that  was  the  question. 

In  my  own  home,  whenever  people  had  nothing 
else  to  do,  they  blamed  me  for  want  of  discretion. 
Indiscretion  was  my  bugbear  fault.  Everybody  has  a 
bugbear  fault ;  a  sort  of  standing  characteristic  —  a 
piece  de  resistance  for  their  friends  to  cut  at ;  and  in 
general  they  cut  and  come  again.  I  was  tired  of 
bein2  called  indiscreet  and  incautious ;  and  I  deter- 
mined for  once  to  prove  myself  a  model  of  prudence 
and  wisdom.     I  would  not  even  hint  my  suspicions 

199 


200  CRANFORD 

respecting  the  Aga.  I  would  collect  evidence  and 
carry  it  home  to  lay  before  my  father,  as  the  family 
friend  of  the  two  Miss  Jenkynses. 

In  my  search  after  facts  I  was  often  reminded  of  a 
description  my  father  had  once  given  of  a  Ladies' 
Committee  that  he  had  had  to  preside  over.  He 
said  he  could  not  help  thinking  of  a  passage  in 
Dickens,  which  spoke  of  a  chorus  in  which  every 
man  took  the  tune  he  knew  best,  and  sang  it  to  his 
own  satisfaction.  So,  at  this  charitable  committee, 
every  lady  took  the  subject  uppermost  in  her  mind, 
and  talked  about  it  to  her  own  great  contentment,  but 
not  much  to  the  advancement  of  the  subject  they  had 
met  to  discuss.  But  even  that  committee  could  have 
been  nothing  to  the  Cranford  ladies  when  I  attempted 
to  gain  some  clear  and  definite  information  as  to  poor 
Peter's  height,  appearance,  and  when  and  where  he 
was  seen  and  heard  of  last.  For  instance,  I  remem- 
ber asking  Miss  Pole  (and  I  thought  the  question 
was  very  opportune,  for  I  put  it  when  I  met  her  at  a 
call  at  Mrs.  Forrester's,  and  both  the  ladies  had 
known  Peter,  and  I  imagined. that  they  might  refresh 
each  other's  memories)  —  I  asked  Miss  Pole  what 
was  the  very  last  thing  they  had  ever  heard  about 
him ;  and  then  she  named  the  absurd  report  to  which 
I  have  alluded,  about  his  having  been  elected  Great 
Lama  of  Thibet ;  and  this  was  a  signal  for  each  lady 
to  go  off  on  her  separate  idea.  Mrs.  Forrester's 
start  was  made  on  the  veiled  prophet  in  Lalla  Rookh 
—  whether  I  thought  he  was  meant  for  the  Great 
Lama,  though  Peter  was  not  so  ugly,  indeed  rather 
handsome,  if  he  had  not  been  freckled.    I  was  thank- 


ENGAGED   TO  BE  MARRIED  201 

ful  to  see  her  double  upon  Peter ;  but,  in  a  moment, 
the  delusive  lady  was  off  upon  Rowlands'  Kalydor, 
and  the  merits  of  cosmetics  and  hair  oils  in  general, 
and  holding  forth  so  fluently  that  I  turned  to  listen 
to  Miss  Pole,  who  (through  the  llamas,  the  beasts  of 
burden)  had  got  to  Peruvian  bonds,  and  the  share 
market,  and  her  poor  opinion  of  joint-stock  banks  in 
general,  and  of  that  one  in  particular  in  which  Miss 
Matty's  money  was  invested.  In  vain  I  put  in 
"  When  was  it  —  in  what  year  was  it  that  you  heard 
that  Mr.  Peter  was  the  Great  Lama?"  They  only 
joined  issue  to  dispute  whether  llamas  were  carniv- 
orous animals  or  not ;  in  which  dispute  they  were 
not  quite  on  fair  grounds,  as  Mrs.  Forrester  (after 
they  had  grown  warm  and  cool  again)  acknowledged 
that  she  always  confused  carnivorous  and  graminiv- 
orous together,  just  as  she  did  horizontal  and  per- 
pendicular; but  then  she  apologised  for  it  very 
prettily,  by  saying  that  in  her  day  the  only  use  peo- 
ple made  of  four-syllabled  words  was  to  teach  how 
they  should  be  spelt. 

The  only  fact  I  gained  from  this  conversation  was 
that  certainly  Peter  had  last  been  heard  of  in  India, 
"  or  that  neighbourhood  " ;  and  that  this  scanty  in- 
telligence of  his  whereabouts  had  reached  Cranford 
in  the  year  when  Miss  Pole  had  bought  her  Indian 
muslin  gown,  long  since  worn  out  (we  washed  it  and 
mended  it,  and  traced  its  decline  and  fall  into  a  win- 
dow-blind, before  we  could  go  on)  ;  and  in  a  year 
when  Wombwell  came  to  Cranford,  because  Miss 
Matty  had  wanted  to  see  an  elephant  in  order  that 
she  might  the  better  imagine  Peter  riding  on  one ; 


202 


CRANFORD 


and  had  seen  a  boa-constrictor  too,  which  was  more 
than  she  wished  to  imagine  in  her  fancy-pictures  of 
Peters  locality ;  and  in  a  year  when  Miss  Jenkyns 


Miss  Jenkyns  used  to  say," 


had  learned  some  piece  of  poetry  off  by  heart,  aod 
used  to  say,  at  all  the  Cranford  parties,  how  Peter  was 
"surveying  mankind  from  China  to  Peru,"  which 
everybody  had  thought  very  grand,  and  rather  appro- 


ENGAGED   TO  BE  MARRIED  203 

priate,  because  India  was  between  China  and  Peru,  if 
you  took  care  to  turn  the  globe  to  the  left  instead 
of  the  right. 

I  suppose  all  these  inquiries  of  mine,  and  the  con 
sequent  curiosity  excited  in  the  minds  of  my  friends, 
made  us  blind  and  deaf  to  what  was  going  on  around 
us.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  sun  rose  and  shone, 
and  as  if  the  rain  rained  on  Cranford,  just  as  usual,* 
and  I  did  not  notice  any  sign  of  the  times  that  could 
be  considered  as  a  prognostic  of  any  uncommon  event ; 
and,  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  not  only  Miss  Matty 
and  Mrs.  Forrester,  but  even  Miss  Pole  herself,  whom 
we  looked  upon  as  a  kind  of  prophetess,  from  the 
knack  she  had  of  foreseeing  things  before  they  came 
to  pass  —  although  she  did  not  like  to  disturb  her 
friends  by  telling  them  her  foreknowledge  —  even 
Miss  Pole  herself  was  breathless  with  astonishment 
when  she  came  to  tell  us  of  the  astounding  piece  of 
news.  But  I  must  recover  myself;  the  contemplation 
of  it,  even  at  this  distance  of  time,  has  taken  awav 
my  breath  and  my  grammar,  and  unless  I  subdue  m}- 
emotion,  my  spelling  will  go  too. 

We  were  sitting — Miss  Matty  and  I  —  much  as 
usual,  she  in  the  blue  chintz  easy-chair,  with  her  back 
to  the  light,  and  her  knitting  in  her  hand,  I  reading 
aloud  the  St.  James's  Chronicle.  A  few  minutes 
more,  and  we  should  have  gone  to  make  the  little 
alterations  in  dress  usual  before  calling-time  (twelve 
o'clock)  in  Cranford.  I  remember  the  scene  and  the 
date  well.  We  had  been  talking  of  the  signor's 
rapid  recovery  since  the  warmer  weather  had  set  in, 
and  praising  Mr.  Hoggins's  skill,  and  lamenting  his 


204  CRANFORD 

want  of  refinement  and  manner  (it  seems  a  curious 
coincidence  that  this  should  have  been  our  subject, 
but  so  it  was),  when  a  knock  was  heard  —  a  caller\s 
knock — three  distinct  taps  —  and  we  were  flying 
(that  is  to  say.  Miss  Matty  could  not  walk  very  fast, 
having  had  a  touch  of  rheumatism)  to  our  rooms,  to 
change  cap  and  collars,  when  Miss  Pole  arrested  us 
*by  calling  out,  as  she  came  up  the  stairs,  "  Don't  go 
—  I  can't  wait — it  is  not  twelve,  I  know  —  but  never 
mind  your  dress  —  I  must  speak  to  you."  We  did 
our  best  to  look  as  if  it  was  not  we  who  had  made 
the  hurried  movement,  the  sound  of  which  she  had 
heard ;  for,  of  course,  we  did  not  like  to  have  it 
supposed  that  we  had  any  old  clothes  that  it  was 
convenient  to  wear  out  in  the  "  sanctuary  of  home," 
as  Miss  Jenkyns  once  prettily  called  the  back  parlour, 
where  she  was  tying  up  preserves.  So  we  threw  our 
gentility  with  double  force  into  our  manners,  and 
very  genteel  we  were  for  two  minutes  while  Miss 
Pole  recovered  breath,  and  excited  our  curiosity 
strongly  by  lifting  up  her  hands  in  amazement,  and 
bringing  them  down  in  silence,  as  if  what  she  had  to 
say  was  too  big  for  words,  and  could  only  be  expressed 
by  pantomime. 

"What  do  you  think.  Miss  Matty?  What  do  you 
think?  Lady  Glenmire  is  to  marry — is  to  be  mar- 
ried, I  mean  —  Lady  Glenmire  —  Mr.  Hoggins  —  Mr. 
Hoggins  is  going  to  marry  Lady  Glenmire  !" 
"Marry!"  said  we.  "Marry!  Madness!" 
"  Marry ! "  said  Miss  Pole,  with  the  decision  that 
belonged  to  her  character.  "  /  said  marry !  as  you 
do ;  and  I  also  said,  '  What  a  fool  my  lady  is  going 


ENGAGED   TO  BE  MARRIED  205 

to  make  of  herself ! '  I  could  have  said  '  Madness  ! ' 
but  I  controlled  myself,  for  it  was  in  a  public  shop 
that  I  heard  of  it.  Where  feminine  delicacy  is  gone 
to,  I  don't  know  !  You  and  I,  Miss  Matty,  would 
have  been  ashamed  to  have  known  that  our  marriage 
was  spoken  of  in  a  grocer's  shop,  in  the  hearing  of 
shopmen  ! " 

'•  But,"  said  Miss  Matty,  sighing  as  one  recovering 
from  a  blow,  "perhaps  it  is  not  true.  Perhaps  we 
are  doing  her  injustice." 

"No,"  said  Miss  Pole.  "I  have  taken  care  to  as- 
certain that.  I  went  straight  to  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam,  to 
borrow  a  cookery  book  which  I  knew  she  had ;  and 
I  introduced  my  congratulations  a  propos  of  the  diffi- 
culty gentlemen  must  have  in  housekeeping;  and 
Mrs.  Fitz-Adam  bridled  up,  and  said  that  she  believed 
it  was  true,  though  how  and  where  I  could  have 
heard  it  she  did  not  know.  She  said  her  brother 
and  Lady  Glenrtiire  had  come  to  an  understanding 
at  last.  '  Understanding ! '  such  a  coarse  word  ! 
But  my  lady  will  have  to  come  down  to  many 
a  want  of  refinement.  I  have  reason  to  believe 
Mr.  Hoggins  sups  on  bread-and-cheese  and  beer 
every  night." 

"  Marry!  "  said  Miss  Matty  once  again.  "  Well!  I 
never  thought  of  it.  Two  people  that  we  know  going 
to  be  married.     It's  coming  very  near!  " 

"  So  near  that  my  heart  stopped  beating,  when  I 
heard  of  it,  while  you  might  have  counted  twelve," 
said  Miss  Pole. 

"One  does  not  know  whose  turn  may  come  next. 
Here,  in  Cranford,  poor  Lady  Glenmire  might  have 


206  CRANFORD 

thought  herself  safe,"  said  Miss  Matty,  with  a  gentle 
pity  in  her  tones. 

"Bah!  "  said  Miss  Pole,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 
"  DonH  you  remember  poor  dear  Captain  Brown's 
song  'Tibbie  Fowler,'  and  the  line  — 

'  Set  her  on  the  Tintock  Tap, 

The  wind  will  blaw  a  man  till  her.' " 

"  That  was  because  '  Tibbie  Fowler '  was  rich,  I 
think." 

"  Well !  there  is  a  kind  of  attraction  about  Lady  Glen- 
mire  that  I,  for  one,  should  be  ashamed  to  have." 

I  put  in  my  wonder.  "  But  how  can  she  have 
fancied  Mr.  Hoggins?  I  am  not  surprised  that  Mr. 
Hoggins  liked  her." 

"Oh!  I  don't  know.  Mr.  Hoggins  is  rich,  and 
very  pleasant-looking,"  said  Miss  Matty,  "and  very 
good-tempered  and  kind-hearted." 

"  She  has  married  for  an  establishment,  that's  it. 
I  suppose  she  takes  the  surgery  with  it,"  said  Miss 
Pole,  with  a  little  dry  laugh  at  her  own  joke.  But, 
like  many  people  who  think  they  have  made  a  severe 
and  sarcastic  speech,  which  yet  is  clever  of  its  kind, 
she  began  to  relax  in  her  grimness  from  the  moment 
when  she  made  this  allusion  to  the  surgery ;  and  we 
turned  to  speculate  on  the  way  in  which  Mrs.  Jamie- 
son  would  receive  the  news.  The  person  whom  she 
had  left  in  charge  of  her  house  to  keep  off  followers 
from  her  maids  to  set  up  a  follower  of  her  own! 
And  that  follower  a  man  whom  Mrs.  Jamieson  had 
tabooed  as  vulgar,  and  inadmissible  to  Cranford 
society,  not  merely  on  account  of  his  name,  but  be- 


ENGAGED   TO  BE  MARRIED  207 


"Lady  Glenmire,' 


cause  of  his  voice,  his  complexion,  his  boots,  smelling 
of  the  stable,  and  himself,  smelling  of  drugs.  Had 
he  ever  been  to  see  Lady  Glenmire  at  Mrs.  Jamie- 
son's?  Chloride  of  lime  would  not  purify  the  house 
in  its  owner's  estimation  if  he  had.     Or  had  their 


208  CRANFORD 

interviews  been  confined  to  the  occasional  meetings 
in  the  chamber  of  tlie  poor  sick  conjuror,  to  whom, 
with  all  our  sense  of  the  mesalliance,  we  could  not 
help  allowing  that  they  had  both  been  exceedingly 
kind?  And  now  it  turned  out  that  a  servant  of  Mrs. 
Jamieson's  had  been  ill,  and  Mr.  Hoggins  had  been 
attending  her  for  some  weeks.  So  the  wolf  had  got 
into  the  fold,  and  now  he  was  carrying  off  the  shep- 
herdess. What  would  Mrs.  Jamieson  say?  We 
looked  into  the  darkness  of  futurity  as  a  child  gazes 
after  a  rocket  up  in  the  cloudy  sky,  full  of  wondering 
expectation  of  the  rattle,  the  discharge,  and  the 
brilliant  shower  of  sparks  and  light.  Then  we 
brought  ourselves  down  to  earth  and  the  present 
time  by  questioning  each  other  (being  all  equally 
ignorant,  and  all  equally  without  the  slightest  data  to 
build  any  conclusions  upon)  as  to  when  it  would 
take  place?  Where?  How  much  a  year  Mr.  Hog- 
gins had?  Whether  she  would  drop  her  title?  And 
how  Martha  and  the  other  correct  servants  in  Cran- 
ford  would  ever  be  brought  to  announce  a  married 
couple  as  Lady  Glenmire  and  Mr.  Hoggins?  But 
would  they  be  visited?  Would  Mrs.  Jamieson  let 
us?  Or  must  we  choose  between  the  Honourable 
Mrs.  Jamieson  and  the  degraded  Lady  Glenmire? 
We  all  liked  Lady  Glenmire  the  best.  She  was 
bright,  and  kind,  and  sociable,  and  agreeable ;  and 
Mrs.  Jamieson  was  dull,  and  inert,  and  pompous,  and 
tiresome.  But  we  had  acknowledged  the  sway  of 
the  latter  so  long,  that  it  seemed  like  a  kind  of  dis- 
loyalty now  even  to  meditate  disobedience  to  the 
prohibition  we  anticipated. 


ENGAGED    TO  BE  MARRIED  209 

Mrs.  Forrester  surprised  us  in  our  darned  caps  and 
patched  collars  ;  and  we  forgot  all  about  them  in  our 
eagerness  to  see  how  she  would  bear  the  information, 
which  we  honourably  left  to  Miss  Pole  to  impart, 
although,  if  we  had  been  inclined  to  take  unfair 
advantage,  we  might  have  rushed  in  ourselves,  for 
she  had  a  most  out-of-place  fit  of  coughing  for  five 
minutes  after  Mrs.  Forrester  entered  the  room.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  imploring  expression  of  her 
eyes  as  she  looked  at  us  over  her  pocket-handker- 
chief. They  said  as  plain  as  words  could  speak, 
"  Don't  let  nature  deprive  me  of  the  treasure  which 
is  mine,  although  for  a  time  I  can  make  no  use  of 
it."     And  we  did  not. 

Mrs.  Forrester's  surprise  was  equal  to  ours ;  and 
her  sense  of  injury  rather  greater,  because  she  had  to 
feel  for  her  Order,  and  saw  more  fully  than  we  could 
do  how  such  conduct  brought  stains  on  the  aristoc- 
racy. 

When  she  and  Miss  Pole  left  us  we  endeavoured 
to  subside  into  calmness ;  but  Miss  Matty  was  really 
upset  by  the  intelligence  she  had  heard.  She  reck- 
oned it  up,  and  it  was  more  than  fifteen  years  since 
she  had  heard  of  any  of  her  acquaintance  going  to 
be  married,  with  the  one  exception  of  Miss  Jessie 
Brown ;  and,  as  she  said,  it  gave  her  quite  a  shock, 
and  made  her  feel  as  if  she  could  not  think  what 
would  happen  next. 

I  don't  know  whether  it  is  a  fancy  of  mine,  or  a 
real  fact,  but  I  have  noticed  that,  just  after  the  an- 
nouncement of  an  engagement  in  any  set,  the  unmar- 
ried ladies  in  that  set  flutter  out  in  an  unusual  gaiety 


210  CRANFORD 

and  newness  of  dress,  as  much  as  to  say,  in  a  tacit 
and  unconscious  manner,  "We  also  are  spinsters." 
Miss  Matty  and  Miss  Pole  tal]<ed  and  tliouglit  more 
about  bonnets,  gowns,  caps,  and  shawls,  during  the 
fortnight  that  succeeded  this  call,  than  I  had  known 
them  do  for  years  before.  But  it  might  be  the  spring 
weather,  for  it  was  a  warm  and  pleasant  March  ;  and 
merinoes  and  beavers,  and  woollen  materials  of  all 
sorts  were  but  ungracious  receptacles  of  the  bright 
sun's  glancing  rays.  It  had  not  been  Lady  Glenmire's 
dress  that  had  won  Mr.  Hoggins's  heart,  for  she 
went  about  on  her  errands  of  kindness  more  shabby 
than  ever.  Although  in  the  hurried  glimpses  I 
caught  of  her  at  church  or  elsewhere  she  appeared 
rather  to  shun  meeting  any  of  her  friends,  her  face 
seemed  to  have  almost  something  of  the  flush  of 
youth  in  it ;  her  lips  looked  redder  and  more  trem- 
bling full  than  in  their  old  compressed  state,  and  her 
eyes  dwelt  on  all  things  with  a  lingering  light,  as  if 
she  was  learning  to  love  Cranford  and  its  belongings. 
Mr.  Hoggins  looked  broad  and  radiant,  and  creaked 
up  the  middle  aisle  at  church  in  a  bran-new  pair  of 
top-boots  —  an  audible,  as  well  as  visible,  sign  of  his 
purposed  change  of  state ;  for  the  tradition  went, 
that  the  boots  he  had  worn  till  now  were  the  iden- 
tical pair  HI  which  he  first  set  out  on  his  rounds  in 
Cranford  twenty-five  years  ago ;  only  they  had  been 
new-pieced,  high  and  low,  top  and  bottom,  heel  and 
sole,  black  leather  and  brown  leather,  more  times 
than  any  one  could  tell. 

None  of  the  ladies  in  Cranford  chose  to  sanction 
the  marriage  by  congratulating  either  of  the  parties. 


ENGAGED    TO  BE  MARRIED 


211 


"  Mr.  Hoggins  looked  radiant," 


We  wished  to  ignore  the  whole  affair  until  our  liege 
lady,  Mrs.  Jamieson,  returned.  Till  she  came  back 
to  give  us  our  cue,  we  felt  that  it  would  be  better  to 
consider  the  engagement  in  the  same  light  as  the 


212  CRANFORD 

Queen  of  Spain's  legs  —  facts  which  certainly  existed, 
but  the  less  said  about  the  better.  This  restraint 
upon  our  tongues  —  for  you  see  if  we  did  not  speak 
about  it  to  any  of  the  parties  concerned,  how  could 
we  get  answers  to  the  questions  that  we  longed  to 
ask?  —  was  beginning  to  be  irksome,  and  our  idea 
of  the  dignity  of  silence  was  paling  before  our  curi- 
osity, when  another  direction  was  given  to  our 
thoughts,  by  an  announcement  on  the  part  of  the 
principal  shopkeeper  of  Cranford,  who  ranged  the 
trades  from  grocer  and  cheese-monger  to  man-mil- 
liner, as  occasion  required,  that  the  Spring  Fashions 
were  arrived,  and  would  be  exhibited  on  the  following 
Tuesday  at  his  rooms  in  High  Street.  Now  Miss 
Matty  had  been  only  waiting  for  this  before  buying 
herself  a  new  silk  gown.  I  had  offered,  it  is  true, 
to  send  to  Drumble  for  patterns,  but  she  had  rejected 
my  proposal,  gently  implying  that  she  had  not  for- 
gotten her  disappointment  about  the  sea-green  turban. 
I  was  thankful  that  I  was  on  the  spot  now,  to  coun- 
teract the  dazzling  fascination  of  any  yellow  or  scar- 
let silk. 

I  must  say  a  word  or  two  here  about  myself.  I 
have  spoken  of  my  father's  old  friendship  for  the 
Jenkyns  family;  indeed,  I  am  not  sure  if  there  was 
not  some  distant  relationship.  He  had  willingly  al- 
lowed me  to  remain  all  the  winter  at  Cranford,  in 
consideration  of  a  letter  which  Miss  Matty  had  writ- 
ten to  him  about  the  time  of  the  panic,  in  which  I 
suspect  she  had  exaggerated  my  powers  and  my 
bravery  as  a  defender  of  the  house.  But  now  that 
the  days  were  longer  and  more  cheerful,  he  was  be- 


ENGAGED   TO  BE  MARRIED  213 

ginning  to  urge  the  necessity  of  my  return ;  and  I 
only  delayed  in  a  sort  of  odd  forlorn  hope  that  if  I 
could  obtain  any  clear  information,  I  might  make  the 
account  given  by  the  signora  of  the  Aga  Jenkyns 
tally  with  that  of  "  poor  Peter,"  his  appearance  and 
disappearance,  which  I  had  winnowed  out  of  the  con- 
versation of  Miss  Pole  and  Mrs.  Forrester. 


The  very  Tuesday  morning  on  which  Mr.  Johnson 
was  going  to  show  the  fashions,  tlie  post-woman 
brought  two  letters  to  the  house.  I  say  the  post- 
woman,  but  I  should  say  the  postman's  wife.  He  was 
a  lame  shoemaker,  a  very  clean,  honest  man,  much 
respected  in  the  town ;  but  he  never  brought  the 
letters  round  except  on  unusual  occasions,  such  as 
Christmas  Day  or  Good  Friday ;  and  on  those  days 
the  letters,  which  should  have  been  delivered  at  eight 
in  the  morning,  did  not  make  their  appearance  until 
two  or  three  in  the  afternoon,  for  every  one  liked  poor 
Thomas,  and  gave  him  a  welcome  on  these  festive 
occasions.  He  used  to  say,  "  He  was  welly  stawed  wi' 
eating,  for  there  were  three  or  four  houses  where  nowt 
would  serve  'em  but  he  must  share  in  their  breakfast "  ; 
and  by  the  time  he  had  done  his  last  breakfast,  he  came 
to  some  other  friend  who  was  beginning  dinner ;  but 
come  what  might  in  the  way  of  temptation,  Tom  was 
always  sober,  civil,  and  smiling ;  and,  as  Miss  Jenkyns 
used  to  say,  it  was  a  lesson  in  patience,  that  she 
doubted  not  would  call  out  that  precious  quality  in 

214 


STOPPED  PAYMENT  215 

some  minds,  where,  but  for  Thomas,  it  might  have  lain 
dormant  and  undiscovered.  Patience  was  certainly 
ver\'  dormant  in  Miss  Jenkyns's  mind.  She  was 
always  expecting  letters,  and  always  drumming  on 
the  table  till  the  post-woman  had  called  or  gone  past. 
On  Christmas  Day  and  Good  Friday  she  drummed 
from  breakfast  till  church,  from  church-time  till  two- 
o'clock —  unless  when  the  fire  wanted  stirring,  when 
she  invariably  knocked  down  the  fire-irons,  and  scolded 
Miss  Matty  for  it.  But  equally  certain  was  the  hearty 
welcome  and  the  good  dinner  for  Thomas ;  Miss 
Jenkyns  standing  over  him  like  a  bold  dragoon, 
questioning  him  as  to  his  children  —  what  they  were 
doing  —  what  school  they  went  to;  upbraiding  him  if 
another  was  likely  to  make  its  appearance,  but  sending 
even  the  little  babies  the  shilling  and  the  mince-pie 
which  was  her  gift  to  all  the  children,  with  half-a-crown 
in  addition  for  both  father  and  mother.  The  post  was 
not  half  of  so  much  consequence  to  dear  Miss  Matty ; 
but  not  for  the  world  would  she  have  diminished 
Thomas's  welcome  and  his  dole,  though  I  could  see 
that  she  felt  rather  shy  over  the  ceremony,  which 
had  been  regarded  by  Miss  Jenkyns  as  a  glorious 
opportunity  for  giving  advice  and  benefiting  her 
fellow-creatures.  Miss  Matty  would  steal  the  money 
all  in  a  lump  into  his  hand,  as  if  she  were  ashamed 
of  herself.  Miss  Jenkyns  gave  him  each  individual 
coin  separate,  with  a  "There!  that's  for  yourself; 
that's  for  Jenny,"  etc.  Miss  Matty  would  even  beckon 
Martha  out  of  the  kitchen  while  he  ate  his  food ;  and 
once,  to  my  knowledge,  winked  at  its  rapid  disappear- 
ance  into  a  blue  cotton  pocket-handkerchief.    Miss 


216  CRANFOKD 

Jenkyns  almost  scolded  him  if  he  did  not  leave  a  clean 
plate,  however  heaped  it  might  have  been,  and  gave 
an  injunction  with  every  mouthful. 

I  have  wandered  a  long  way  from  the  two  letters 
that  awaited  us  on  the  breakfast-table  that  Tuesday 
morning.  Mine  was  from  my  father.  Miss  Matty's 
was  printed.  My  father's  was  just  a  man's  letter ;  I 
mean  it  was  very  dull,  and  gave  no  information 
beyond  that  he  was  well,  that  they  had  had  a  good 
deal  of  rain,  that  trade  was  very  stagnant,  and  there 
were  many  disagreeable  rumours  afloat.  He  then 
asked  me  if  I  knew  whether  Miss  Matty  still  retained 
her  shares  in  the  Town  and  County  Bank,  as  there 
were  very  unpleasant  reports  about  it ;  though  nothing 
more  than  he  had  always  foreseen,  and  had  prophesied 
to  Miss  Jenkyns  years  ago,  when  she  would  invest 
their  little  property  in  it  —  the  only  unwise  step  that 
clever  woman  had  ever  taken,  to  his  knowledge  (the 
only  time  she  ever  acted  against  his  advice,  I  knew). 
However,  if  anything  had  gone  wrong,  of  course  I 
was  not  to  think  of  leaving  Miss  Matty  while  I  could 
be  of  any  use,  etc. 

"  Who  is  your  letter  from,  my  dear?  Mine  is  a  very 
civil  invitation,  signed  '  Edwin  Wilson,'  asking  me 
to  attend  an  important  meeting  of  the  shareholders  of 
the  Town  and  County  Bank,  to  be  held  in  Drumble, 
on  Thursday  the  twenty-first.  I  am  sure,  it  is  very 
attentive  of  them  to  remember  me." 

I  did  not  like  to  hear  of  this  "  important  meeting," 
for,  though  I  did  not  know  much  about  business,  I 
feared  it  confirmed  what  my  father  said :  however, 
I  thought,  ill  news  always  came  fast  enough,  so  I 


STOPPED  PAYMENT  217 

resolved  to  say  nothing  about  my  alarm,  and  merely 
told  her  that  my  father  was  well,  and  sent  his  kind 
regards  to  her.  She  kept  turning  over  and  admiring 
her  letter.     At  last  she  spoke  — 

"  I  remember  their  sending  one  to  Deborah  just  like 
this  ;  but  that  I  did  not  wonder  at,  for  everybody  knew 
she  was  so  clear-headed.  I  am  afraid  I  could  not 
help  them  much ;  indeed,  if  they  came  to  accounts, 
I  should  be  quite  in  the  way,  for  I  never  could  do  sums 
in  my  head.  Deborah,  I  know,  rather  wished  to  go, 
and  went  so  far  as  to  order  a  new  bonnet  for  the 
occasion  ;  but  when  the  time  came  she  had  a  bad  cold ; 
so  they  sent  her  a  very  polite  account  of  what  they 
had  done.  Chosen  a  director,  I  think  it  was.  Do 
you  think  they  want  me  to  help  them  to  choose  a 
director  .-'  I  am  sure  I  should  choose  your  father 
at  once." 

"My  father  has  no  shares  in  the  bank,"  said  I. 

"  Oh  no  !  I  remember.  He  objected  very  much  to 
Deborah's  buying  any,  I  believe.  But  she  was  quite 
the  woman  of  business,  and  always  judged  for  her- 
self; and  here,  you  see,  they  have  paid  eight  per  cent 
all  these  years." 

It  was  a  very  uncomfortable  subject  to  me,  with 
my  half-knowledge ;  so  I  thought  I  would  change  the 
conversation,  and  I  asked  at  what  time  she  thought 
we  had  better  go  and  see  the  fashions.  "Well,  my 
dear,"  she  said,  "  the  thing  is  this  :  it  is  not  etiquette 
to  go  till  after  twelve  ;  but  then,  you  see,  all  Cranford 
will  be  there,  and  one  does  not  like  to  be  too  curious 
about  dress  and  trimmings  and  caps  with  all  the  world 
looking  on.     It  is  never  genteel  to  be  over-curious  on 


218  CRANFORD 

these  occasions.  Deborah  had  the  knack  of  always 
looking  as  if  the  latest  fashion  was  nothing  new 
to  her ;  a  manner  she  had  caught  from  Lady  Arley, 
who  did  see  all  the  new  modes  in  London,  you  know. 
So  I  thought  we  would  just  slip  down  this  morning, 
soon  after  breakfast  —  for  I  do  want  half  a  pound  of 
tea  —  and  then  we  could  go  up  and  examine  the  things 
at  our  leisure,  and  see  exactly  how  my  new  silk  gown 
must  be  made ;  and  then,  after  twelve,  we  could  go 
with  our  minds  disengaged,  and  free  from  thoughts 
of  dress. 

We  began  to  talk  of  Miss  Matty's  new  silk  gown. 
I  discovered  that  it  would  be  really  the  first  time  in 
her  life  that  she  had  had  to  choose  anything  of 
consequence  for  herself:  for  Miss  Jenkyns  had  al- 
ways been  the  more  decided  character,  whatever  her 
taste  might  have  been ;  and  it  is  astonishing  how 
such  people  carry  the  world  before  them  by  the  mere 
force  of  will.  Miss  Matty  anticipated  the  sight  of  the 
glossy  folds  with  as  much  delight  as  if  the  five  sov- 
ereigns, set  apart  for  the  purchase,  could  buy  all  the 
silks  in  the  shop ;  and  (remembering  my  own  loss  of 
two  hours  in  a  toyshop  before  I  could  tell  on  what 
wonder  to  spend  a  silver  threepence)  I  was  very  glad 
that  we  were  going  early,  that  dear  Miss  Matty  might 
have  leisure  for  the  delights  of  perplexity. 

If  a  happy  sea-green  could  be  met  with,  the  gown 
was  to  be  sea-green  :  if  not,  she  inclined  to  maize,  and 
I  to  silver  gray ;  and  we  discussed  the  requisite  num- 
ber of  breadths  until  we  arrived  at  the  shop-door. 
We  were  to  buy  the  tea,  select  the  silk,  and  then 
clamber  up  the   iron  corkscrew  stairs   that   led  into 


STOPPED  PAYMENT  219 

what  was  once  a  loft,  though    now  a  fashion  show- 
room. 

The  young  men  at  Mr.  Johnson's  had  on  their  best 
looks,  and  their  best  cravats,  and  pivoted  themselves 
over  the  counter  with    surprising  activity.      They 


"  Over  the  counter" 

wanted  to  show  us  upstairs  at  once ;  but  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  business  first  and  pleasure  afterwards,  we 
stayed  to  purchase  the  tea.  Here  Miss  Matty's  ab- 
sence of  mind  betrayed  itself.  If  she  was  made  aware 
that  she  had  been  drinking  green  tea  at  any  time,  she 
always  thought  it  her  duty  to  lie  awake  half  through  the 


220  CRANFORD 

night  afterward  (I  have  known  her  take  it  in  ignorance 
many  a  time  without  such  effects),  and  consequently 
green  tea  was  prohibited  the  house ;  yet  to-day  she 
herself  asked  for  the  obnoxious  article,  under  the  im- 
pression that  she  was  talking  about  the  silk.  How- 
ever, the  mistake  was  soon  rectified ;  and  then  the 
silks  were  unrolled  in  good  truth.  By  this  time  the 
shop  was  pretty  well  filled,  for  it  was  Cranford  mar- 
ket-day, and  many  of  the  farmers  and  country  people 
from  the  neighbourhood  round  came  in,  sleeking  down 
their  hair,  and  glancing  shyly  about,  from  under  their 
eyelids,  as  anxious  to  take  back  some  notion  of  the 
unusual  gaiety  to  the  mistress  or  the  lasses  at  home, 
and  yet  feeling  that  they  were  out  of  place  among  the 
smart  shopmen  and  gay  shawls  and  summer  prints. 
One  honest-looking  man,  however,  made  his  way  up 
to  the  counter  at  which  we  stood,  and  boldly  asked  to 
look  at  a  shawl  or  two.  The  other  country  folk  con- 
fined themselves  to  the  grocery  side ;  but  our  neigh- 
bour was  evidently  too  full  of  some  kind  intention 
towards  mistress,  wife,  or  daughter,  to  be  shy ;  and  it 
soon  became  a  question  with  me,  whether  he  or  Miss 
Matty  would  keep  their  shopman  the  longest  time. 
He  thought  each  shawl  more  beautiful  than  the  last ; 
and,  as  for  Miss  Matty,  she  smiled  and  sighed  over 
each  fresh  bale  that  was  brought  out ;  one  colour  set 
off  another,  and  the  heap  together  would,  as  she  said, 
make  even  the  rainbow  look  poor. 
•  "  I  am  afraid,"  said  she,  hesitating,  "  whichever  I 
choose  I  shall  wish  I  had  taken  another.  Look  at 
this  lovely  crimson!  it  would  be  so  warm  in  winter. 
But  spring  is  coming  on,  you  know.     I  wish  I  could 


STOPPED  PAYMENT  111 

have  a  gown  for  every  season,"  said  she,  dropping 
her  voice  —  as  we  all  did  in  Cranford  whenever  we 
talked  of  anything  we  wished  for  but  could  not  af- 
ford. "  However,"  she  continued,  in  a  louder  and 
more  cheerful  tone,  "it  would  give  me  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  to  take  care  of  them  if  I  had  them ;  so,  I  think, 
ril  only  take  one.     But  which  must  it  be,  my  dear?" 

And  now  she  hovered  over  a  lilac  with  yellow 
spots,  while  I  pulled  out  a  quiet  sage-green  that  had 
faded  into  insignificance  under  the'  more  brilliant 
colours,  but  which  was  nevertheless  a  good  silk  in 
its  humble  way.  Our  attention  was  called  off  to  our 
neighbour.  He  had  chosen  a  shawl  of  about  thirty 
shillings'  value ;  and  his  face  looked  broadly  happy, 
under  the  anticipation,  no  doubt,  of  the  pleasant 
surprise  he  should  give  to  some  Molly  or  Jenny  at 
home ;  he  had  tugged  a  leathern  purse  out  of  his 
breeches-pocket,  and  had  offered  a  five-pound  note 
in  payment  for  the  shawl,  and  for  some  parcels  which 
had  been  brought  round  to  him  from  the  grocery 
counter;  and  it  was  just  at  this  point  that  he  at- 
tracted our  notice.  The  shopman  was  examining  the 
note  with  a  puzzled,  doubtful  air. 

"Town  and  County  Bank!  I  am  not  sure,  sir,  but 
I  believe  we  have  received  a  warning  against  notes 
issued  by  this  bank  only  this  morning.  I  will  just 
step  and  ask  Mr.  Johnson,  sir ;  but  I'm  afraid  I  must 
trouble  you  for  payment  in  cash,  or  in  a  note  of  a 
different  bank." 

I  never  saw  a  man's  countenance  fall  so  suddenly 
into  dismay  and  bewilderment.  It  was  almost  pite- 
ous to  see  the  rapid  change. 


222 


CRANFORD 


"Dang  it!"  said  he,  striking  his  fist  down  on  the 
table,  as  if  to  try  which  was  the  harder,  "  the  cliap  talks 
as  if  notes  and  gold  were  to  be  had  for  the  picking  up." 


" '  Dang  it! '  said  he. 


Miss  Matty  had  forgotten  her  silk  gown  in  her 
interest  for  the  man.  I  don't  think  she  had  caught 
the  name  of  the  bank,  and  in  my  nervous  cowardice 
I  was  anxious  thai  she  should  not ;  and  so  I  began 


STOPPED  PAYMENT  111 

admiring  the  yellow-spotted  lilac  gown  that  I  had 
been  utterly  condemning  only  a  minute  before.  But 
it  was  of  no  use. 

''  What  bank  was  it?  I  mean,  what  bank  did  your 
note  belong  to?" 

"  Town  and  County  Bank." 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  said  she  quietly  to  the  shopman, 
gently  taking  it  out  of  his  hand,  as  he  brought  it  back 
to  return  it  to  the  farmer. 

Mr.  Johnson  was  very  sorry,  but,  from  information 
he  had  received,  the  notes  issued  by  that  bank  were 
little  better  than  waste  paper. 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Miss  Matty  to  me  in 
a  low  voice.  "That  is  our  bank,  is  it  not?  —  the 
Town  and  County  Bank?  " 

"Yes,"  said  I.  "This  lilac  silk  will  just  match 
the  ribbons  in  your  new  cap,  I  believe,"  I  continued, 
holding  up  the  folds  so  as  to  catch  the  light,  and 
wishing  that  the  man  would  make  haste  and  be  gone, 
and  yet  having  a  new  wonder,  that  had  only  just 
spmng  up,  how  far  it  was  wise  or  right  in  me  to 
allow  Miss  Matty  to  make  this  expensive  purchase  if 
the  affairs  of  the  bank  were  really  so  bad  as  the  re- 
fusal of  the  note  implied. 

But  Miss  Matty  put  on  the  soft  dignified  manner 
peculiar  to  her,  rarely  used,  and  yet  which  became 
her  so  well,  and  laying  her  hand  gently  on  mine,  she 
said  — 

"  Never  mind  the  silks  for  a  few  minutes,  dear.  I 
don't  understand  you,  sir,"  turning  now  to  the  shop- 
man, who  had  been  attending  to  the  farmer.  "  Is 
this  a  forged  note?" 


224  CRANFORD 

*'  Oh  no,  ma'am.  It  is  a  trae  note  of  its  kind  ;  buv 
you  see,  ma'am,  it  is  a  joint-stock  bank,  and  there  are 
reports  out  that  it  is  likely  to  break.  Mr.  Johnson  is 
only  doing  his  duty,  ma'am,  as  I  am  sure  Mr.  Dobson 
knows." 

But  Mr.  Dobson  could  not  respond  to  the  appealing 
bow  by  any  answering  smile.  He  was  turning  the 
note  absently  over  in  his  fingers,  looking  gloomily 
enough  at  the  parcel  containing  the  lately-chosen 
shawl. 

"  It's  hard  upon  a  poor  man,"  said  he,  "  as  earns 
every  farthing  with  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  However, 
there's  no  help  for  it.  You  must  take  back  your 
shawl,  my  man  ;  Lizzie  must  do  on  with  her  cloak  for 
a  while.  And  yon  figs  for  the  little  ones  —  I  promised 
them  to  'em  —  I'll  take  them  ;  but  the  'bacco,  and  the 
other  things " 

''  I  will  give  you  five  sovereigns  for  your  note,  my 
good  man,"  said  Miss  Matty.  "  I  think  there  is  some 
great  mistake  about  it,  for  I  am  one  of  the  share- 
holders, and  I'm  sure  they  would  have  told  me  if 
things  had  not  been  going  on  right." 

The  shopman  whispered  a  word  or  two  across  the 
table  to  Miss  Matty.  She  looked  at  him  with  a  dubi- 
ous air. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  she.  "  But  I  don't  pretend  to 
understand  business  ;  I  only  know  that  if  it  is  going  tu 
fail,  and  if  honest  people  are  to  lose  their  money  be- 
cause they  have  taken  our  notes  —  I  can't  explain 
myself,"  said  she,  suddenly  becoming  aware  that  she 
had  got  into  a  long  sentence  with  four  people  for 
audience  ;  "  only  I  would  rather  exchange  my  gold  for 


STOPPED  PAYMENT  225 

the  note,  if  you  please,"  turning  to  the  farmer,  "and 
then  you  can  take  your  wife  the  shawl.  It  is  only 
going  without  my  gown  a  few  days  longer,"  she  con- 
tinued, speaking  to  me.  "  Then,  I  have  no  doubt, 
everything  will  be  cleared  up." 

"  But  if  it  is  cleared  up  the  wrong  way  ?  "  said  I. 
"■  Why,  then  it  will  only  have  been  common  honesty 
in  me,  as  a  shareholder,  to  have  given  this  good  man 
the  money.  I  am  quite  clear  about  it  in  my  own 
mind;  but,  you  know,  I  can  never  speak  quite  as 
comprehensively  as  others  can ;  only  you  must  give , 
me  your  note,  Mr.  Dobson,  if  you  please,  and  go  on 
with  your  purchases  with  these  sovereigns." 

The  man  looked  at  her  with  silent  gratitude  —  too 
awkward  to  put  his  thanks  into  words ;  but  he  hung 
back  for  a  minute  or  two,  fumbling  with  his  note. 

"  Tm  loth  to  make  another  one  lose  instead  of  me, 
if  it  is  a  loss ;  but,  you  see,  five  pounds  is  a  deal  of 
money  to  a  man  with  a  family ;  and,  as  you  say,  ten 
to  one  in  a  day  or  two  the  note  will  be  as  good  as 
gold  again." 

"  No  hope  of  that,  my  friend,"  said  the  shopman. 
"  The  more  reason  why  I  should  take  it,"  said  Miss 
Matty  quietly.  She  pushed  her  sovereigns  towards 
the  man,  who  slowly  laid  his  note  down  in  exchange. 
"  Thank  you.  I  will  wait  a  day  or  two  before  I 
purchase  any  of  these  silks ;  perhaps  you  will  then 
have  a  greater  choice.  My  dear,  will  you  come  up- 
stairs ?  " 

We  inspected  the  fashions  with  as  minute  and 
curious  an  interest  as  if  the  gown  to  be  made  after 
them  had  been  bought.     I  could  not  see  that  the  little 


226  CRANFORD 

event  in  the  shop  below  had  in  the  least  damped  Miss 
Matty's  curiosity  as  to  the  make  of  sleeves  or  the  sit 
of  skirts.  She  once  or  twice  exchanged  congratula- 
tions with  me  on  our  private  and  leisurely  view  of  the 
bonnets  and  shawls  ;  but  I  was,  all  the  time,  not  so  sure 
that  our  examination  was  so  utterly  private,  for  I 
caught  glimpses  of  a  figure  dodging  behind  the  cloaks 
and  mantles ;  and,  by  a  dexterous  move,  I  came  face 
to  face  with  Miss  Pole,  also  in  morning  costume  (the 
principal  feature  of  which  was  her  being  without 
teeth,  and  wearing  a  veil  to  conceal  the  deficiency), 
come  on  the  same  errand  as  ourselves.  But  she 
quickly  took  her  departure,  because,  as  she  said,  she 
had  a  bad  headache,  and  did  not  feel  herself  up  to  con- 
versation. 

As  we  came  down  through  the  shop,  the  civil  Mr. 
Johnson  was  awaiting  us ;  he  had  been  informed  of 
the  exchange  of  the  note  for  gold,  and  with  much 
good  feeling  and  real  kindness,  but  with  a  little  want 
of  tact,  he  wished  to  condole  with  Miss  Matty,  and 
impress  upon  her  the  true  state  of  the  case.  I  coukl 
only  hope  that  he  had  heard  an  exaggerated  rumour, 
for  he  said  that  her  shares  were  worse  than  nothing, 
and  that  the  bank  could  not  pay  a  shilling  in  the 
pound.  I  was  glad  that  Miss  Matty  seemed  still  a 
little  incredulous ;  but  I  could  not  tell  how  mucli  of 
this  was  real  or  assumed,  with  that  self-control  which 
seemed  habitual  to  ladies  of  Miss  Matty's  standing  in 
Cranford,  who  would  have  thought  their  dignity  com- 
promised by  the  slightest  expression  of  surprise,  dis- 
may, or  any  similar  feeling  to  an  inferior  in  station, 
or  in  a  public  shop.     However,  we  walked  home  very 


STOPPED  PAYMENT 


227 


"  754*  civil  Mr.  Johnson. 


silently.  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  I  believe  I  was  rather 
vexed  and  annoyed  at  Miss  Matty's  conduct  in  taking 
the  note  to  herself  so  decidedly.  I  had  so  set  my  heart 
upon  her  having  a  new  silk  gown,  which  she  wanted 
sadly;   in  general  she   was  so  undecided   anybody 


228  CRANFOKD 

might  turn  her  round ;  in  this  case  I  had  felt  that  it 
was  no  use  attempting  it,  but  1  was  not  the  less  put 
out  at  the  result. 

Somehow,  after  twelve  o'clock,  we  both  acknowl- 
edged to  a  sated  curiosity  about  the  fashions,  and  to 
a  certain  fatigue  of  body  (which  was,  in  fact,  depres- 
sion of  mind)  that  indisposed  us  to  go  out  again. 
But  still  we  never  spoke  of  the  note ;  till,  all  at  once, 
something  possessed  me  to  ask  Miss  Matty  if  she 
would  think  it  her  duty  to  offer  sovereigns  for  all 
the  notes  of  the  Town  and  County  Bank  she  met 
with  ?  I  could  have  bitten  my  tongue  out  the  min- 
ute I  had  said  it.  She  looked  up  rather  sadly,  and 
as  if  I  had  thrown  a  new  perplexity  into  her  already 
distressed  mind  ;  and  for  a  minute  or  two  she  did  not 
speak.  Then  she  said  —  my  own  dear  Miss  Matty 
—  without  a  shade  of  reproach  in  her  voice  — 

"  My  dear,  I  never  feel  as  if  my  mind  was  what 
people  call  very  strong ;  and  it's  often  hard  enough 
work  for  me  to  settle  what  I  ought  to  do  with  the 
case  right  before  me.  1  was  very  thankful  to  —  I 
was  very  thankful,  that  I  saw  my  duty  this  morning, 
with  the  poor  man  standing  by  me ;  but  it's  rather  a 
strain  upon  me  to  keep  thinking  and  thinking  what  I 
should  do  if  such  and  such  a  thing  happened ;  and,  I 
believe,  I  had  rather  wait  and  see  what  really  does 
come ;  and  I  don't  doubt  I  shall  be  helped  then,  if  I 
don't  fidget  myself,  and  get  too  anxious  beforehand. 
You  know,  love,  I'm  not  like  Deborah.  If  Deborah 
had  lived,  I've  no  doubt  she  would  have  seen  after 
them,  before  they  had  got  themselves  into  this 
state." 


STOPPED  PAYMENT  229 

We  had  neither  of  us  much  appetite  for  dinner, 
though  we  tried  to  talk  cheerfully  about  indifferent 
things.  When  we  returned  into  the  drawing-room, 
Miss  Matty  unlocked  her  desk  and  began  to  look  over 
her  account-books.  I  was  so  penitent  for  what  I  had 
said  in  the  morning,  that  I  did  not  choose  to  take 
upon  myself  the  presumption  to  suppose  that  I  could 
assist  her ;  I  rather  left  her  alone,  as,  with  puzzled 
brow,  her  eye  followed  her  pen  up  and  down  the 
ruled  page.  By  and  by  she  shut  the  book,  locked 
her  desk,  and  came  and  drew  a  chair  to  mine,  where 
I  sat  in  moody  sorrow  over  the  fire.  I  stole  my  hand 
into  hers ;  she  clasped  it,  but  did  not  speak  a  word. 
At  last  she  said,  with  forced  composure  in  her 
voice,  "  If.  that  bank  goes  wrong,  I  shall  lose  one 
hundred  and  forty-nine  pounds  thirteen  shillings  and 
fourpence  a  year ;  I  shall  only  have  thirteen  pounds 
a  year  left."  I  squeezed  her  hand  hard  and  tight. 
I  did  not  know  what  to  say.  Presently  (it  Avas  too 
dark  to  see  her  face)  I  felt  her  fingers  work  convul- 
sively in  my  grasp ;  and  I  knew  she  was  going  to 
speak  again.  I  heard  the  sobs  in  her  voice  as  she 
said,  "  I  hope  it's  not  wrong —  not  wicked  —  but,  oh! 
I  am  so  glad  poor  Deborah  is  spared  this.  She  could 
not  have  borne  to  come  down  in  the  world  —  she  had 
such  a  noble,  lofty  spirit." 

'  This  was  all  she  said  about  the  sister  who  had  in- 
sisted upon  investing  their  little  property  in  that  un- 
lucky bank.  We  were  later  in  lighting  the  candle 
than  usual  that  night,  and  until  that  light  shamed  us 
into  speaking,  we  sat  together  very  silently  and 
sadly. 


230  CRANFORD 

However,  we  took  to  our  work  after  tea  with  a 
kind  of  forced  cheerfulness  (which  soon  became  real 
as  far  as  it  went),  talking  of  that  never-ending  won- 
der, Lady  Glenmire's  engagement.  Miss  Matty  was 
almost  coming  round  to  think  it  a  good  thing. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  deny  that  men  are  troublesome 
in  a  house.  I  don't  judge  from  my  own  experience, 
for  my  father  was  neatness  itself,  and  wiped  his  shoes 
on  coming  in  as  carefully  as  any  woman  ;  but  still  a 
man  has  a  sort  of  knowledge  of  what  should  be  done 
in  difficulties,  that  it  is  very  pleasant  to  have  one  at 
hand  ready  to  lean  upon.  Now,  Lady  Glenmire, 
instead  of  being  tossed  about,  and  wondering  where 
she  is  to  settle,  will  be  certain  of  a  home  among 
pleasant  and  kind  people,  such  as  our  good  Miss 
Pole  and  Mrs.  Forrester.  And  Mr.  Hoggins  is 
really  a  very  personable  man  ;  and  as  for  his  manners, 
why,  if  they  are  not  very  polished,  I  have  known 
people  with  very  good  hearts,  and  very  clever  minds 
too,  who  were  not  what  some  people  reckoned  re- 
fined, but  who  were  both  true  and  tender." 

She  fell  off  into  a  soft  reverie  about  Mr.  Holbrook, 
and  I  did  not  interrupt  her,  I  was  so  busy  maturing 
a  plan  I  had  had  in  my  mind  for  some  days,  but 
which  this  threatened  failure  of  the  bank  had  brought 
to  a  crisis.  That  night,  after  Miss  Matty  went  to 
bed,  I  treacherously  lighted  the  candle  again,  and  sat 
down  in  the  drawing-room  to  compose  a  letter  to  the 
Aga  Jenkyns,  a  letter  which  should  affect  him  if  he 
were  Peter,  and  yet  seem  a  mere  statement  of  dry 
facts  if  he  were  a  stranger.  The  church  clock  pealed 
out  two  before  I  had  done. 


STOPPED  PAYMENT  231 

The  next  morning  news  came,  both  official  and 
otherwise,  that  the  Town  and  County  Bank  had 
stopped  payment.     Miss  Matty  was  ruined. 

She  tried  to  speak  quietly  to  me ;  but  when  she 
came  to  the  actual  fact  that  she  would  have  but  about 
five  shillings  a  week  to  live  upon,  she  could  not  re- 
strain a  few  tears. 

"  I  am  not  crying  for  myself,  dear,"  said  she,  wiping 
them  away ;  "  I  believe  I  am  crying  fftr  the  very  silly 
thought  of  how  my  mother  would  grieve  if  she  could 
know ;  she  always  cared  for  us  so  much  more  than 
for  herself.  But  many  a  poor  person  has  less,  and  I 
am  not  very  extravagant,  and,  thank  God.  when  the 
neck  of  mutton,  and  Martha's  wages,  and  the  rent 
are  paid.  I  have  not  a  farthing  owing.  Poor  Martha  I 
I  think  she'll  be  som^  to  leave  me." 

Miss  Matty  smiled  at  me  through  her  tears,  and  she 
would  fain  have  had  me  see  only  the  smile,  not  the 
tears. 


Charif  XIV. 

It  was  an  example  to  me,  and  I  fancy  it  might  be 
to  many  others,  to  see  how  immediately  Miss  Matty 
set  about  the  retrenchment  which  she  knew  to  be 
right  under  her  altered  circumstances.  While  she 
went  down  to  speak  to  Martha,  and  break  the  intel- 
ligence to  her,  I  stole  out  with  my  letter  to  the  Aga 
Jenkyns,  and  went  to  the  signor's  lodgings  to  obtain 
the  exact  address.  I  bound  the  signora  to  secrecy ; 
and  indeed  her  military  manners  had  a  degree  of 
shortness  and  reserve  in  them  which  made  her  always 
say  as  little  as  possible,  except  when  under  the  pres- 
sure of  strong  excitement.  Moreover  (which  made 
my  secret  doubly  sure),  the  signor  was  now  so  far  re 
covered  as  to  be  looking  forward  to  travelling  and  con- 
juring again  in  the  space  of  a  few  days,  when  he,  his 
wife,  and  little  Phoebe  would  leave  Cranford.  Indeed, 
I  found  him  looking  over  a  great  black  and  red  pla- 
card, in  which  the  Signor  Brunoni's  accomplishments 
were  set  forth,  and  to  which  only  the  name  of  the 
town  where  he  would  next  display  them  was  wanting. 
He  and  his  wife  were  so  much  absorbed  in  deciding 
232 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  233 

where  the  red  letters  would  come  in  with  most  effect 
(it  might  have  been  the  Rubric  for  that  matter),  that 
it  was  some  time  before  I  could  get  my  question  asked 
privately,  and  not  before  I  had  given  several  decis- 
ions, the  wisdom  of  which  I  questioned  afterwards 
with  equal  sincerity  as  soon  as  the  signor  threw  in  his 
doubts  and  reasons  on  the  important  subject.  At 
last  I  got  the  address,  spelt  by  sound,  and  very  queer 
it  looked.  I  dropped  it  in  the  post  on  my  way  home, 
and  then  for  a  minute  I  stood  looking  at  the  wooden 
pane  with  a  gaping  slit  which  divided  me  from  the 
\etter  but  a  moment  ago  in  my  hand.  It  was  gone 
from  me  like  life,  never  to  be  recalled.  It  would  get 
tossed  about  on  the  sea,  and  stained  with  sea-waves 
perhaps,  and  be  carried  among  palm-trees,  and 
scented  with  all  tropical  fragrance ;  the  little  piece  of 
paper  but  an  hour  ago  so  familiar  and  commonplace, 
had  set  out  on  its  race  to  the  strange  wild  countries 
beyond  the  Ganges  !  But  I  could  not  afford  to  lose 
much  time  on  this  speculation.  I  hastened  home, 
that  Miss  Matty  might  not  miss  me.  Martha  opened, 
the  door  to  me,  her  face  swollen  with  crying.  As 
soon  as  she  saw  me  she  burst  out  afresh,  and  taking 
hold  of  my  arm  she  pulled  me  in,  and  banged  the  door 
to,  in  order  to  ask  me  if  indeed  it  was  all  true  that 
Miss  Matty  had  been  saying. 

"  ril  never  leave  her  !  No  :  I  won't.  I  telled  her 
60,  and  said  I  could  not  think  how  she  could  find 
in  her  heart  to  give  me  warning.  I  could  not  have 
had  the  face  to  do  it,  if  I'd  been  her.  I  might  ha' 
been  just  as  good  for  nothing  as  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam's 
Rosy,  who  struck  for  wages  after  living  seven  years 


234  CRANFORD 

and  a  half  in  one  place.  I  said  I  was  not  one  to  go 
and  serve  Mammon  at  that  rate ;  that  I  knew  when 
I'd  got  a  good  missus,  if  she  didn't  know  when  she'd 
got  a  good  servant " 

"  But,  Martha,"  said  I,  cutting  in  while  she  wiped 
her  eyes. 

"  Don't  *  but  Martha '  me,"  she  replied  to  my  dep- 
recatory tone. 

"  Listen  to  reason " 

"  I'll  not  listen  to  reason,"  she  said,  now  in  full 
possession  of  her  voice,  which  had  been  rather  choked 
with  sobbing.  "  Reason  always  means  what  some 
one  else  has  got  to  say.  Now  I  think  what  I've  got 
to  say  is  good  enough  reason;  but  reason  or  not,  Til 
say  it,  and  I'll  stick  to  it.  I've  money  in  the  Savings 
Bank,  and  I've  a  good  stock  of  clothes,  and  I'm  not 
going  to  leave  Miss  Matty.  No,  not  if  she  gives  me 
warning  every  hour  in  the  day  ! " 

She  put  her  arms  akimbo,  as  much  as  to  say  she 
defied  me ;  and,  indeed,  I  could  hardly  tell  how 
to  begin  to  remonstrate  with  her,  so  much  did  I 
feel  that  Miss  Matty,  in  her  increasing  infirmity, 
needed  the  attendance  of  this  kind  and  faithful 
woman. 

"Well—  "said  I  at  last. 

"  I'm  thankful  you  begin  with  '  well ! '  If  you'd  ha' 
begun  with  '■  but,'  as  you  did  afore,  I'd  not  ha'  listened 
to  you.     Now  you  may  go  on." 

"  I  know  you  would  be  a  great  loss  to  Miss  Matty, 
Martha " 

"  I  telled  her  so.  A  loss  she'd  never  cease  to  be 
sorry  for,"  broke  in  Martha  triumphantly. 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED 


235 


'  Dotit '  but  Martha '  «*." 


"  Still,  she  will  have  so  little  —  so  very  little  —  to 
live  upon,  that  I  don't  see  just  now  how  she  could  find 
you  food  —  she  will  even  be  pressed  for  her  own.  I 
tell  you  this,  Martha,  because  I  feel  you  are  like  a 
friend  to  dear  Miss  Matty,  but  you  know  she  might 
not  like  to  have  it  spoken  about." 


236  CRANFORD 

Apparently  this  was  even  a  blacker  view  of  the 
subject  than  Miss  Matty  had  presented  to  her,  for 
Martha  just  sat  down  on  the  first  chair  that  came  to 
hand,  and  cried  out  loud  (we  had  been  standing  in 
the  kitchen). 

At  last  she  put  her  apron  down,  and  looking  me 
earnestly  in  the  face,  asked,  "Was  that  the  reason 
Miss  Matty  wouldn't  order  a  pudding  to-day  ?  She 
said  she  had  no  great  fancy  for  sweet  things,  and  you 
and  she  would  just  have  a  mutton-chop.  But  Til  be 
up  to  her.  Never  you  tell,  but  Til  make  her  a  pud- 
ding, and  a  pudding  she'll  like,  too,  and  I'll  pay  for  it 
myself;  so  mind  you  see  she  eats  it.  Many  a  one 
has  been  comforted  in  their  sorrow  by  seeing  a  good 
dish  come  upon  the  table." 

I  was  rather  glad  that  Martha's  energy  had  taken 
the  immediate  and  practical  direction  of  pudding- 
making,  for  it  staved  off  the  quarrelsome  discussion 
as  to  whether  she  should  or  should  not  leave  Miss 
Matty's  service.  She  began  to  tie  on  a  clean  apron, 
and  otherwise  prepare  herself  for  going  to  the  shop 
for  the  butter,  eggs,  and  what  else  she  might  require. 
She  would  not  use  a  scrap  of  the  articles  already  in 
the  house  for  her  cookery,  but  went  to  an  old  tea-pot 
in  which  her  private  store  of  money  was  deposited, 
and  took  out  what  she  wanted. 

I  found  Miss  Matty  very  quiet,  and  not  a  little  sad  ; 
but  by  and  by  she  tried  to  smile  for  my  sake.  It  was 
settled  that  I  was  to  write  to  my  father,  and  ask  him 
to  come  over  and  hold  a  consultation,  and  as  soon  as 
this  letter  was  despatched  we  began  to  talk  over  future 
plans.     Miss  Matty's  idea  was  to  take  a  single  roonij 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  237 

and  retain  as  much  of  her  furniture  as  would  be 
necessary  to  fit  up  this,  and  sell  the  rest,  and  there 
to  quietly  exist  upon  what  would  remain  after  paying 
the  rent.  For  my  part,  I  was  more  ambitious  and 
less  contented.  I  thought  of  all  the  things  by  which 
a  woman  past  middle  age,  and  with  the  education 
common  to  ladies  fifty  years  ago,  could  earn  or  add  to 
a  living  without  materially  losing  caste  ;  but  at  length 
I  put  even  this  last  clause  on  one  side,  and  wondered 
what  in  the  world  Miss  Matty  could  do. 

Teaching  was,  of  course,  the  first  thing  that  sug- 
gested itself.  If  Miss  Matty  could  teach  children 
anything,  it  would  throw  her  among  the  little  elves 
in  whom  her  soul  delighted.  I  ran  over  her  accom- 
plishments. Once  upon  a  time  I  heard  her  say  she 
could  play  "Ah!  vous  dirai-je,  maman?"  on  the 
piano,  but  that  was  long,  long  ago ;  that  faint  shadow 
of  musical  acquirement  had  died  out  years  before. 
She  had  also  once  been  able  to  trace  out  patterns 
very  nicely  for  muslin  embroidery,  by  dint  of  placing 
a  piece  of  silver-paper  over  the  design  to  be  copied, 
and  holding  both  against  the  window-pane  while  she 
marked  the  scollop  and  eyelet-holes.  But  that  was 
her  nearest  approach  to  the  accomplishment  of  draw- 
ing, and  I  did  not  think  it  would  go  very  far.  Then 
again,  as  to  the  branches  of  a  solid  English  education 
—  fancy  work  and  the  use  of  the  globes  —  such  as 
the  mistress  of  the  Ladies'  Seminary,  to  which  all 
the  tradespeople  in  Cranford  sent  their  daughters, 
professed  to  teach.  Miss  Matty's  eyes  were  failing 
her,  and  I  doubted  if  she  could  discover  the  number 
of  threads  in  a  worsted-work  pattern,  or  rightly  ap- 


238  CRANFORD 

preciate  the  different  shades  required  for  Queen  Ade- 
laide's face  in  the  loyal  wool-work  now  fashionable  in 
Cranford.  As  for  the  use  of  the  globes,  I  had  never 
been  able  to  find  it  out  myself,  so  perhaps  I  was  not 
a  good  judge  of  Miss  Matty's  capability  of  instruct- 
ing in  this  branch  of  education  ;  but  it  struck  me  that 
equators  and  tropics,  and  such  mystical  circles,  were 
very  imaginary  lines  indeed  to  her,  and  that  she 
looked  upon  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac  as  so  many 
remnants  of  the  Black  Art. 

What  she  piqued  herself  upon,  as  arts  in  which  she 
excelled,  was  making  candle-lighters,  or  "spills"  (as 
she  preferred  calling  them),  of  coloured  paper,  cut 
so  as  to  resemble  feathers,  and  knitting  garters  in  a 
variety  of  dainty  stitches.  I  had  once  said,  on  re- 
ceiving a  present  of  an  elaborate  pair,  that  I  should 
feel  quite  tempted  to  drop  one  of  them  in  the  street, 
in  order  to  have  it  admired ;  but  I  found  this  little 
joke  (and  it  was  a  very  Jittle  one)  was  such  a  distress 
to  her  sense  of  propriety,  and  was  taken  with  such 
anxious,  earnest  alarm,  lest  the  temptation  might 
some  day  prove  too  strong  for  me,  that  I  quite  re- 
gretted having  ventured  upon  it.  A  present  of  these 
delicately-wrought  garters,  a  bunch  of  gay  "  spills," 
or  a  set  of  cards  on  which  sewing-silk  was  wound  in 
a  mystical  manner,  were  the  well-known  tokens  of 
Miss  Matty's  favour.  But  would  any  one  pay  to 
have  their  children  taught  these  arts?  or,  indeed, 
would  Miss  Matty  sell,  for  filthy  lucre,  the  knack  and 
the  skill  with  which  she  made  trifles  of  value  to  those 
who  loved  her? 

I  had  to  come  down  to  reading,  writing,  and  arith- 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  239 

metic ;  and,  in  reading  the  chapter  every  morning, 
she  always  coughed  before  coming  to  long  words.  I 
doubted  her  power  of  getting  through  a  genealogical 
chapter,  with  any  number  of  coughs.  Writing  she 
did  well  and  delicately  —  but  spelling  !  She  seemed 
to  think  that  the  more  out-of-the-way  this  was,  and 
the  more  trouble  it  cost  her,  the  greater  tRe  compli- 
ment she  paid  to  her  correspondent ;  and  words  that 
she  would  spell  quite  correctly  in  her  letters  to  me 
became  perfect  enigmas  when  she  wrote  to  my 
father. 

No  !  there  was  nothing  she  could  teach  to  the 
rising  generation  of  Cranford,  unless  they  had  been 
quick  learners  and  ready  imitators  of  her  patience,  her 
humility,  her  sweetness,  her  quiet  contentment  with 
all  that  she  could  not  do.  I  pondered  and  pondered 
until  dinner  was  announced  by  Martha,  with  a  face 
all  blubbered  and  swollen  with  crying. 

Miss  Matty  had  a  few  little  peculiarities  which 
Martha  was  apt  to  regard  as  whims  below  her  atten- 
tion, and  appeared  to  consider  as  childish  fancies  of 
which  an  old  lady  of  fifty-eight  should  try  and  cure 
herself.  But  to-day  everything  was  attended  to  with 
the  most  careful  regard.  The  bread  was  cut  to  the 
imaginary  pattern  of  excellence  that  existed  in  Miss 
Matty's  mind,  as  being  the  way  which  her  mother  had 
preferred,  the  curtain  was  drawn  so  as  to  exclude  the 
dead  brick-wall  of  a  neighbour's  stables,  and  yet  left 
so  as  to  show  every  tender  leaf  of  the  poplar  which 
was  bursting  into  spring  beauty.  Martha's  tone  to 
Miss  Matty  was  just  such  as  that  good,  rough-spoken 
servant  usually  kept  sacred  for  little  children,  and 


240  CRANFORD 

which  I  had  never  heard  her  use  to  any  grown-up 
person. 

I  had  forgotten  to  tell  Miss  Matty  about  the 
pudding,  and  I  was  afraid  she  might  not  do  justice  to 
it,  for  she  had  evidently  ver)'  little  appetite  this  day ; 
so  I  seized  the  opportunity  of  letting  her  into  the 
secret   wHile   Martha  took   away    the   meat.     Miss 


"There  I" 


Matty's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  could  not  speak, 
either  to  express  surprise  or  delight,  when  Martha 
returned  bearing  it  aloft,  made  in  the  most  wonderful 
representation  of  a  lion  couchant  that  ever  was 
moulded.  Martha's  face  gleamed  with  triumph  as 
she  set  it  down  before  Miss  Matty  with  an  exultant 
"There!"  Miss  Matty  wanted  to  speak  her  thanks, 
but  could  not ;  so  she  took  Martha's  hand  and  shook 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  241 

it  warmly,  which  set  Martha  off  crying,  and  I  myself 
could  hardly  keep  up  the  necessary  composure. 
Martha  burst  out  of  the  room,  and  Miss  Matty  had 
to  clear  her  voice  once  or  twice  before  she  could 
speak.  At  last  she  said,  "  I  should  like  to  keep  this 
pudding  under  a  glass  shade,  my  dear  ! "  and  the 
notion  of  the  lion  coiichanl,  Avith  his  currant  eyes, 
being  hoisted  up  to  the  place  of  honour  on  a  mantel- 
piece, tickled  my  hysterical  fancy,  and  I  began  to 
laugh,  which  rather  surprised  Miss  Matty. 

"  I  am  sure,  dear,  I  have  seen  uglier  things  under 
a  glass  shade  before  now,"  said  she. 

So  had  I,  many  a  time  and  oft,  and  I  accordingly 
composed  my  countenance  (and  now  I  could  hardly 
keep  from  crying),  and  we  both  fell  to  upon  the 
pudding,  which  was  indeed  excellent  —  only  every 
morsel  seemed  to  choke  us,  our  hearts  were  so  full. 

We  had  too  much  to  think  about  to  talk  much  that 
afternoon.  Itpassedover  very  tranquilly.  But  when 
the  tea-urn  was  brought  in  a  new  thought  came  into 
my  head.  Why  should  not  Miss  Matty  sell  tea  —  be 
an  agent  to  the  East  India  Tea  Company  which  then 
existed?  I  could  see  no  objections  to  this  plan,  while 
the  advantages  were  many  —  always  supposing  that 
Miss  Matty  could  get  over  the  degradation  of  conde- 
scending to  anything  like  trade.  Tea  was  neither 
greasy  nor  sticky  —  grease  and  stickiness  being  two  of 
the'qualities  which  Miss  Matty  could  not  endure.  No 
shop-window  would  be  required.  A  small,  genteel 
notification  of  her  being  licensed  to  sell  tea  would,  it 
is  true,  be  necessary,  but  1  hoped  that  it  could  be 
placed  where  no  one  would  see  it.     Neither  was  tea 


242  CRANFORD 

a  heavy  article,  so  as  to  tax  Miss  Matty's  fragile 
strength.  The  only  thing  against  my  plan  was  the 
buying  and  selling  involved. 

While  I  was  giving  but  absent  answers  to  the 
questions  Miss  Matty  was  putting  —  almost  as  ab- 
sently —  we  heard  a  clumping  sound  on  the  stairs, 
and  a  whispering  outside  the  door,  which  indeed  once 
opened  and  shut  as  if  by  some  invisible  agency.  After 
a  little  while  Martha  came  in,  dragging  after  her  a 
great  tall  young  man,  all  crimson  with  shyness,  and 
finding  his  only  relief  in  perpetually  sleeking  down 
his  hair. 

"  Please,  ma'am,  he's  only  Jem  Hearn,"  said  Mar- 
tha, by  way  of  an  introduction  ;  and  so  out  of  breath 
was  she  that  I  imagine  she  had  had  some  bodily 
struggle  before  she  could  overcome  his  reluctance  to 
be  presented  on  the  courtly  scene  of  Miss  Matilda  Jen- 
kyns's  drawing-room. 

"  And  please,  ma'am,  he  wants  to  marry  me  off- 
hand. And  please,  ma'am,  we  want  to  take  a  lodger 
— just  one  quiet  lodger,  to  make  our  two  ends  meet  \ 
and  we'd  take  any  house  conformable ;  and,  oh  dear 
Miss  Matty,  if  I  may  be  so  bold,  would  you  have  any 
objections  to  lodging  with  us  ?  Jem  wants  it  as  much 
as  I  do."  [To  Jem  :]  —  "  You  great  oaf  !  why  can't 
you  back  me  ? — But  he  does  want  it  all  the  same, 
very  bad  —  don't  you,  Jem? — only,  you  see,  he's 
dazed  at  being  called  on  to  speak  before  quality."* 

"  It's  not  that,"  broke  in  Jem.  "  It's  that  you've 
taken  me  all  on  a  sudden,  and  I  didn't  think  for  to 
get  married  so  soon  —  and  such  quick  work  does  flab- 
bergast a  man.     It's  not  that  I'm  against  it,  ma'am  " 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  243 

(addressing  Miss  Matty),  "only  Martha  has  such 
quick  ways  with  her  when  once  she  takes  a  thing  into 
her  head ;  and  marriage,  ma'am  —  marriage  nails  a 
man,  as  one  may  say.  I  daresay  I  shan't  mind  it  after 
it's  once  over." 

"Please,  ma'am,"  said  Martha — who  had  plucked 
at  his  sleeve,  and  nudged  him  with  her  elbow,  and 
otherwise  tried  to  interrupt  him  all  the  time  he  had 
been  speaking — "don't  mind  him,  he'll  come  to; 
'twas  only  last  night  he  was  an-axing  me,  and  an- 
axing  me,  and  all  the  more  because  I  said  I  could 
not  think  of  it  for  years  to  come,  and  now  he's  only 
taken  aback  with  the  suddenness  of  the  joy ;  but  you 
know,  Jem,  you  are  just  as  full  as  me  about  wanting 
a  lodger."     (Another  great  nudge.) 

"  Ay  !  if  Miss  Matty  would  lodge  with  us  —  other- 
wise I've  no  mind  to  be  cumbered  with  strange  folk  in 
the  house,"  said  Jem,  with  a  want  of  tact  which  I 
could  see  enraged  Martha,  who  was  trying  to  repre- 
sent  a  lodger  as  the  great  object  they  wished  to  ob- 
tain, and  that,  in  fact.  Miss  Matty  would  be  smoothing 
their  path  and  conferring  a  favour,  if  she  would  only 
come  and  live  with  them. 

Miss  Matty  herself  was  bewildered  by  the  pair; 
their,  or  rather  Martha's  sudden  resolution  in  favour 
of  matrimony  staggered  her,  and  stood  between  her 
and  the  contemplation  of  the  plan  which  Martha  had 
at  heart.     Miss  Matty  began  — 

"  Marriage  is  a  very  solemn  thing,  Martha." 

"  It  is  indeed,  ma'am,"  quoth  Jem.  "  Not  that  I've 
no  objections  to  Martha." 

•<  You've  never  let  me  a-be  for  asking  me  for  to  fix 


244  CRANFORD 

when  I  would  be  married,"  said  Martha  —  her  face  all 
a-fire,  and  ready  to  cry  with  vexation  — "  and  now 
you're  shaming  me  before  my  missus  and  all." 

"  Nay,  now  !  Martha,  don't  ee  !  don't  ee  !  only  a 
man  likes  to  have  breathing-time,"  said  Jem,  trying 
to  possess  himself  of  her  hand,  but  in  vain.  Then 
seeing  that  she  was  more  seriously  hurt  than  he  had 
imagined,  he  seemed  to  try  to  rally  his  scattered  fac- 
ulties, and  with  more  straightforward  dignity  than, 
ten  minutes  before,  I  should  have  thought  it  possible 
for  him  to  assume,  he  turned  to  Miss  Matty,  and 
said,  "  I  hope,  ma'am,  you  know  that  I  am  bound  to 
respect  every  one  who  has  been  kind  to  Martha.  I 
always  looked  on  her  as  to  be  my  wife  —  some  time ; 
and  she  has  often  and  often  spoken  of  you  as  the 
kindest  lady  that  ever  was ;  and  though  the  plain 
truth  is,  I  would  not  like  to  be  troubled  with  lodgers 
of  the  common  run,  yet  if,  ma'am,  you'd  honour  us  by 
living  with  us,  I'm  sure  Martha  would  do  her  best  to 
make  you  comfortable  ;  and  I'd  keep  out  of  your  way 
as  much  as  I  could,  which  1  reckon  would  be  the  best 
kindness  such  an  awkward  chap  as  me  could  do." 

Miss  Matty  had  been  very  busy  with  taking  off  her 
spectacles,  wiping  them,  and  replacing  them  ;  but  all 
she  could  say  was,  "  Don't  let  any  thought  of  me  hurry 
you  into  marriage :  pray  don't  !  Marriage  is  such  a 
very  solemn  thing  ! " 

"  But  Miss  Matilda  will  think  of  your  plan,  Martha," 
said  I,  struck  with  the  advantages  that  it  offered,  and 
unwilling  to  lose  the  opportunity  of  considering  about 
it.  "  And  I'm  sure  neither  she  nor  I  can  ever  forget 
your  kindness  ;  nor  yours  either,  Jem." 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  245 

"  Why,  yes,  ma'am  !  I'm  sure  I  mean  kindly,  though 
I'm  a  bit  fluttered  by  being  pushed  straight  a-head 
into  matrimony,  as  it  were,  and  mayn't  express  my- 
self conformable.  But  I'm  sure  I'm  willing  enough, 
and  give  me  time  to  get  accustomed;  so,  Martha, 
wench,  what's  the  use  of  crying  so,  and  slapping  me 
if  I  come  near?" 

This  last  was  sotto  voce,  and  had  the  effect  of  mak- 
ing Martha  bounce  out  of  the  room,  to  be  followed 
and  soothed  by  her  lover.  Whereupon  Miss  Matty 
sat  down  and  cried  very  heartily,  and  accounted  for 
it  by  saying  that  the  thought  of  Martha  being  mar- 
ried so  soon  gave  her  quite  a  shock,  and  that  she 
should  never  forgive  herself  if  she  thought  she  was 
hurrying  the  poor  creature.  I  think  my  pity  was 
more  for  Jem,  of  the  two ;  but  both  Miss  Matty  and 
I  appreciated  to  the  full  the  kindness  of  the  honest 
couple,  although  we  said  little  about  this,  and  a  good 
deal  about  the  chances  and  dangers  of  matrimony. 

The  next  morning,  very  early,  I  received  a  note 
from  Miss  Pole,  so  mysteriously  wrapped  up,  and  with 
so  many  seals  on  it  to  secure  secrecy,  that  I  had  to 
tear  the  paper  before  I  could  unfold  it.  And  when 
I  came  to  the  writing  I  could  hardly  understand  the 
meaning,  it  was  so  involved  and  oracular.  I  made 
out,  however,  that  I  was  to  go  to  Miss  Pole's  at  eleven 
o'clock ;  the  number  eleven  being  written  in  full  length 
as  well  as  in  numerals,  and  A.M.  twice  dashed  under, 
as  if  I  were  very  likely  to  come  at  eleven  at  night, 
when  all  Cranford  was  usually  a-bed  and  asleep  by 
ten.  There  was  no  signature  except  Miss  Pole's 
initials  reversed,  P.  E. ;  but  a§  Martha  had  given  me 


246 


CRANFORD 


"  Soothed  by  her  lover." 


the  note,  "  with  Miss  Pole's  kind  regards,"  it  needed 
no  wizard  to  find  out  who  sent  it ;  and  if  the  writer's 
name  was  to  be  kept  secret,  it  was  very  well  that  I 
was  alone  when  Martha  delivered  it. 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  247 

I  went  as  requested  to  Miss  Pole's.  The  door  was 
opened  to  me  by  her  little  maid  Lizzie  in  Sunday 
trim,  as  if  some  grand  event  was  impending  over 
this  workday.  And  the  drawing-room  upstairs  was 
arranged  in  accordance  with  this  idea.  The  table 
was  set  out  with  the  best  green  card-cloth,  and  writ- 
ing materials  upon  it.  On  the  little  chiffonier  was  a 
tray  with  a  newly-decanted  bottle  of  cowslip-wine, 
and  some  ladies'-finger  biscuits.  Miss  Pole  herself 
was  in  solemn  array,  as  if  to  receive  visitors,  although 
it  was  only  eleven  o'clock.  Mrs.  Forrester  was  there, 
crying  quietly  and  sadly,  and  my  arrival  seemed  only 
to  call  forth  fresh  tears.  Before  we  had  finished  our 
greetings,  performed  with  lugubrious  mystery  of  de- 
meanour, there  was  another  rat-tat-tat,  and  Mrs.  Fitz- 
Adam  appeared,  crimson  with  walking  and  excitement. 
It  seemed  as  if  this  was  all  the  company  expected ; 
for  now  Miss  Pole  made  several  demonstrations  of 
being  about  to  open  the  business  of  the  meeting,  by 
stirring  the  fire,  opening  and  shutting  the  door,  and 
coughing  and  blowing  her  nose.  Then  she  arranged 
us  all  round  the  table,  taking  care  to  place  me  oppo- 
site to  her ;  and  last  of  all,  she  inquired  of  me  if  the 
sad  report  was  true,  as  she  feared  it  was,  that  Miss 
Matty  had  lost  all  her  fortune  ? 

Of  course,  I  had  but  one  answer  to  make ;  and 
I  never  saw  more  unaffected  sorrow  depicted  on 
any  countenances  than  I  did  there  on  the  three  be- 
fore me. 

'  "I  wish  Mrs.  Jamieson  was  here!"  said  Mrs.  For- 
lester  at  last ;  but  to  judge  from  Mrs.  Fitz-Adara'.s 
face,  she  could  not  second  the  wish. 


248  CRANFORD 

"  But  without  Mrs.  Jamieson,"  said  Miss  Pole,  with 
just  a  sound  of  offended  merit  in  her  voice,  "we,  the 
ladies  of  Cranford,  in  my  drawing-room  assembled, 
can  resolve  upon  something.  I  imagine  we  are  none 
of  us  what  may  be  called  rich,  though  we  all  possess 
a  genteel  competency,  sufficient  for  tastes  that  are 
elegant  and  refined,  and  would  not,  if  they  could, 
be  vulgarly  ostentatious."  (Here  I  observed  Miss 
Pole  refer  to  a  small  card  concealed  in  her  hand, 
on  which  I  imagine  she  had  put  dov/n  a  few 
notes.) 

"  Miss  Smith,"  she  continued,  addressing  me  (famil- 
iarly known  as  "  Mary  "  to  all  the  company  assembled, 
but  this  was  a  state  occasion),  "  I  have  conversed  in 
private — I  made  it  my  business  to  do  so  yesterday 
afternoon  —  with  these  ladies  on  the  misfortune 
which  has  happened  to  our  friend,  and  one  and  all  of 
us  have  agreed  that  while  we  have  a  superfluity,  it  is 
not  only  a  duty,  but  a  pleasure  —  a  true  pleasure, 
Mary!  "  —  her  voice  was  rather  choked  just  here,  and 
she  had  to  wipe  her  spectacles  before  she  could  go 
on  —  "to  give  what  we  can  to  assist  her — Miss 
Matilda  Jenkyns.  Only  in  consideration  of  the  feel- 
ings of  delicate  independence  existing  in  the  mind  of 
every  refined  female  "  —  I  was  sure  she  had  got  back 
to  the  card  now  —  "  we  wish  to  contribute  our  mites 
in  a  secret  and  concealed  manner,  so  as  not  to  hurt 
the  feelings  I  have  referred  to.  And  our  object  in 
requesting  you  to  meet  us  this  morning  is  that,  be- 
lieving you  are  the  daughter  —  that  your  father  is,  in- 
fact,  her  confidential  adviser  in  all  pecuniary  matters, 
we  imagined  that,  by  consulting  with  him,  you  might 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  249 

devise  some  mode  in  which  our  contribution  could  be 
made  to  appear  the   legal  due  which  Miss   Matilda 

Jenkyns  ought  to  receive  from .     Probably,  your 

father,  knowing  her  investments,  can  fill  up  the 
blank." 

Miss  Pole  concluded  her  address,  and  looked  round 
for  approval  and  agreement. 

"  I  have  expressed  your  meaning,  ladies,  have  I  not  ? 
And  while  Miss  Smith  considers  what  reply  to  make, 
allow  me  to  offer  you  some  little  retreshment." 

I  had  no  great  reply  to  make  ;  I  had  more  thankful- 
ness at  my  heart  for  their  kind  thoughts  than  I  cared 
to  put  into  words ;  and  so  I  only  mumbled  out  some- 
thing to  the  effect  "  that  I  would  name  what  Miss  Pole 
had  said  to  my  father,  and  that  if  anything  coujd  be 
arranged  for  dear  Miss  Matty,"  —  and  here  I  broke 
down  utterly,  and  had  to  be  refreshed  with  a  glass  of 
cowslip  wine  before  I  could  check  the  crying  which  had 
been  repressed  for  the  last  two  or  three  days.  The 
worst  was,  all  the  ladies  cried  in  concert.  Even  Miss 
Pole  cried,  who  had  said  a  hundred  times  that  to  be- 
tray emotion  before  any  one  was  a  sign  of  weakness 
and  want  of  self-control.  She  recovered  herself  into 
a  slight  degree  of  impatient  anger,  directed  against 
me,  as  having  set  them  all  off;  and,  moreover,  I  think 
she  was  vexed  that  I  could  not  make  a  speech  back  in 
return  for  hers  ;  and  if  I  had  known  beforehand  what 
was  to  be  said,  and  had  a  card  on  which  to  express 
the  probable  feelings  that  would  rise  in  my  heart,  I 
would  have  tried  to  gratify  her.  As  it  was,  Mrs.  For- 
rester was  the  person  to  speak  when  we  had  recovered 
our  composure. 


250  CRANFORD 

"I  don't  mind,  among  friends,  stating  that  I  —  no! 
I'm  not  poor  exactly,  but  I  don't  think  I'm  what  you 
may  call  rich  ;  I  wish  I  were,  for  dear  Miss  Matty's 
sake  —  but,  if  you  please,  I'll  write  down  in  a  sealed 
paper  what  I  can  give.  I  only  wish  it  was  more  :  my 
dear  Mary,  I  do  indeed." 

Now  I  saw  why  paper,  pens,  and  ink  were  provided. 
Every  lady  wrote  down  the  sum  she  could  give  annu- 
ally, signed  the  paper,  and  sealed  it  mysteriously.  It 
their  proposal  was  acceded  to,  my  father  was  to  be  al- 
lowed to  open  the  papers,  under  pledge  of  secrecy. 
If  not,  they  were  to  be  returned  to  their  writers. 

When  this  ceremony  had  been  gone  through,  I  ro.se 
to  depart ;  but  each  lady  seemed  to  wish  to  have  a 
private  conference  with  me.  Miss  Pole  kept  me  in 
the  drawing-room  to  explain  why,  in  Mrs.  Jamieson's 
absence,  she  had  taken  the  lead  in  this  "movement," 
as  she  was  pleased  to  call  it,  and  also  to  inform  me 
that  she  had  heard  from  good  sources  that  Mrs.  Ja- 
mieson  was  coming  home  directly  in  a  state  of  high 
displeasure  against  her  sister-in-law,  who  was  forth- 
with to  leave  her  house,  and  was,  she  believed,  to  re- 
turn to  Edinburgh  that  very  afternoon.  Of  course 
this  piece  of  intelligence  could  not  be  communicated 
before  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam,  more  especially  as  Miss  Pole 
was  inclined  to  think  that  Lady  Glenmire's  engage- 
ment to  Mr.  Hoggins  could  not  possibly  hold  against 
the  blaze  of  Mrs.  Jamieson's  displeasure.  A  few 
hearty  inquiries  after  Miss  Matty's  health  concluded 
my  interview  with  Miss  Pole. 

On  coming  downstairs  I  found  Mrs.  Forrester  wait- 
ing for  me  at  the  entrance  to  the  dining-parlour ;  she 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  251 

drew  me  in,  and  when  the  door  was  shut,  she  tried  two 
or  three  times  to  begin  on  some  subject,  which  was  so 
unapproachable  apparently,  that  I  began  to  despair  of 
our  ever  getting  to  a  clear  understanding.  At  last  out 
it  came ;  the  poor  old  lady  trembling  all  the  time,  as 
if  it  were  a  great  crime  which  she  was  exposing  to  day- 
light, in  telling  me  how  very,  very  little  she  had  to  live 
upon ;  a  confession  which  she  was  brought  to  make 
from  a  dread  lest  we  should  think  that  the  small  con- 
tribution named  in  her  paper  -bore  any  proportion  to 
her  love  and  regard  for  Miss  Matty.  And  yet  that 
sum  which  she  so  eagerly  relinquished  was,  in  truth, 
more  than  a  twentieth  part  of  what  she  had  to  live 
upon,  and  keep  house,  and  a  little  serving-maid,  all  as 
became  one  born  a  Tyrrell.  And  when  the  whole  in- 
come does  not  nearly  amount  to  a  hundred  pounds, 
to  give  up  a  twentieth  of  it  will  necessitate  many 
careful  economies,  and  many  pieces  of  self-denial, 
small  and  insignificant  in  the  world's  account,  but 
bearing  a  different  value  in  another  account-book 
that  I  have  heard  of.  She  did  so  wish  she  was  rich, 
she  said,  and  this  wish  she  kept  repeating,  with  no 
thought  of  herself  in  it,  only  with  a  longing,  yearning 
desire  to  be  able  to  heap  up  Miss  Matty's  measure  of 
comforts. 

It  was  some  time  before  I  could  console  her  enough 
to  lea\'e  her ;  and  then,  on  quitting  the  house,  I  was 
waylaid  by  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam,  who  had  also  her  confi- 
dence to  make  of  pretty  nearly  the  opposite  descrip- 
tion. She  had  not  liked  to  put  down  all  that  she 
could  afford  and  was  ready  to  give.  She  told  me 
she  thought  she  never  could  look  Miss  Matty  in  the 


252  CRANFORD 

face  again  if  she  presumed  to  be  giving  her  so  much 
as  she  should  like  to  do.  "Miss  Matty  !  "  continued 
she,  "  that  I  thought  was  such  a  fine  young  lady  when  I 
was  nothing  but  a  country  girl,  coming  to  market  with 
eggs  and  butter  and  such  Hke  things.  For  my  father, 
though  well-to-do,  would  always  make  me  go  on  as 
my  mother  had  done  before  me,  and  I  had  to  come 
into  Cranford  every  Saturday,  and  see  after  sales,  and 
prices,  and  what  not.  And  one  day,  I  remember,  I 
met  Miss  Matty  in  the  kine  that  leads  to  Combehurst ; 
she  was  walking  on  the  footpath,  which,  you  know,  is 
raised  a  good  way  above  the  road,  and  a  gentleman 
rode  beside  her,  and  was  talking  to  her,  and  she  was 
looking  down  at  some  primroses  she  had  gathered, 
and  pulling  them  all  to  pieces,  and  I  do  believe  she 
was  crying.  But  after  she  had  passed,  she  turned 
round  and  ran  after  me  to  ask  —  oh,  so  kindly —  about 
my  poor  mother,  who  lay  on  her  death-bed ;  and  when 
I  cried  she  took  hold  of  my  hand  to  comfort  me  — 
and  the  gentleman  waiting  for  her  all  the  time  —  and 
her  poor  heart  very  full  of  something,  I  am  sure  ;  and 
I  thought  it  such  an  honour  to  be  spoken  to  in  that 
pretty  way  by  the  rector's  daughter,  who  visited  at 
Arley  Hall.  I  have  loved  her  ever  since,  though  per- 
haps I'd  no  right  to  do  it ;  but  if  you  can  think  of  any 
way  in  which  I  might  be  allowed  to  give  a  little  more 
without  any  one  knowing  it  I  should  be  so  much 
obliged  to  you,  my  dear.  And  my  brother  would  be 
delighted  to  doctor  her  for  nothing  —  medicines, 
leeches,  and  all.  I  know  that  he  and  her  ladyship 
(my  dear,  I  little  thought  in  the  days  I  was  telling 
you  of  that  I  should  ever  come  to  be  sister-in-law 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  253 

to  a  ladyship  !)  would  do  anything  for  her.  We  all 
would." 

I  told  her  I  was  quite  sure  of  it,  and  promised  all 
sorts  of  things  in  my  anxiety  to  get  home  to  Miss 
Matty,  who  might  well  be  wondering  what  had  become 
of  me  —  absent  from  her  two  hours  without  being  able 
to  account  for  it.  She  had  taken  very  little  note  of 
time,  however,  as  she  had  been  occupied  in  number- 
less little  arrangements  preparatory  to  the  great  step 
of  giving  up  her  house.  It  was  evidently  a  relief  to 
her  to  be  doing  something  in  the  way  of  retrench- 
ment, for,  as  she  said,  whenever  she  paused  to  think, 
the  recollection  of  the  poor  fellow  with  his  bad  five- 
pound  note  came  over  her,  and  she  felt  quite  dis- 
honest ;  only  if  it  made  her  so  uncomfortable,  what 
must  it  not  be  doing  to  the  directors  of  the  bank,  who 
must  know  so  much  more  of  the  misery  consequent 
upon  this  failure?  She  almost  made  me  angry  by 
dividing  her  sympathy  between  these  directors  (whom 
she  imagined  overwhelmed  by  self-reproach  for  the 
mismanagement  of  other  people's  affairs)  and  those 
who  were  suffering  like  her.  Indeed,  of  the  two,  she 
seemed  to  think  poverty  a  lighter  burden  than  self- 
reproach  ;  but  I  privately  doubted  if  the  directors 
would  agree  with  her. 

Old  hoards  were  taken  out  and  examinea  as  to 
their  money  value,  which  luckily  was  small,  or  else  I 
don't  know  how  Miss  Matty  would  have  prevailed 
upon  herself  to  part  with  such  things  as  her  mother's 
wedding-ring,  the  strange,  uncouth  brooch  with  which 
her  father  had  disfigured  his  shirt-frill,  etc.  However, 
we  arranged  things  a  little  in  order  as  to  their  pecu- 


254  CRANFORD 

niary  estimation,  and  were  all  ready  for  my  father 
when  he  came  the  next  morning. 

^  I  am  not  going  to  weary  you  with  the  details  of  all 
the  business  we  went  through ;  and  one  reason  for 
not  telling  about  them  is,  that  I  did  not  understand 
what  we  were  doing  at  the  time,  and  cannot  recollect 
it  now.  Miss  Matty  and  I  sat  assenting  to  accounts, 
and  schemes,  and  reports,  and  documents,  of  which  I 
do  not  believe  we  either  of  us  understood  a  word  ;  for 
my  father  was  clear-headed  and  decisive,  and  a  capital 
man  of  business,  and  if  we  made  the  slightest  inquiry, 
or  expressed  the  slightest  want  of  comprehension,  he 
had  a  sharp  way  of  saying,  "  Eh  ?  eh  ?  it's  as  clear  as 
daylight.  What's  your  objection?"  And  as  we  had 
not  comprehended  anything  of  what  he  had  proposed, 
we  found  it  rather  difficult  to  shape  our  objections  ;  in 
fact,  we  never  were  sure  if  we  had  any.  So  presently 
Miss  Matty  got  into  a  nervously  acquiescent  state, 
and  said  "  Yes,"  and  "  Certainly,"  at  every  pause, 
whether  required  or  not ;  but  when  I  once  joined  in 
as  chorus  to  a  "  Decidedly,"  pronounced  by  Miss 
Matty  in  a  tremblingly  dubious  tone,  my  father  fired 
round  at  me  and  asked  me  "What  there  was  to 
decide?"  And  I  am  sure  to  this  day  I  have  never 
known.  But,  in  justice  to  him,  I  must  say  he  had 
come  over  from  Drumble  to  help  Miss  Matty  when 
he  could  ill  spare  the  time,  and  when  his  own  affairs 
were  in  a  very  anxious  state. 

While  Miss  Matty  was  out  of  the  room  giving 
orders  for  luncheon  —  and  sadly  perplexed  between 
her  desire  of  honouring  my  father  by  a  delicate,  dainty 
meal,  and  her  conviction  that  she  had  no  right,  now 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  255 

that  all  her  money  was  gone,  to  indulge  this  desire  — 
I  told  him  of  the  meeting  of  the  Cranford  ladies  at 
Miss  Pole's  the  day  before.  He  kept  brushing  his 
hand  before  his  eyes  as  I  spoke  —  and  when  I  went 
back  to  Martha's  offer  the  evening  before,  of  receiving 
Miss  Matty  as  a  lodger,  he  fairly  walked  away  from 
me  to  the  window,  and  began  drumming  with  his 
fingers  upon  it.  Then  he  turned  abruptly  round,  and 
said,  "  See,  Mary,  how  a  good  innocent  life  makes 
friends  all  around.  Confound  it!  I  could  make  a  good 
lesson  out  of  it  if  I  were  a  parson  ;  but,  as  it  is,  I  can't 
get  a  tail  to  my  sentences  —  only  I'm  sure  you  feel 
what  I  want  to  say.  You  and  I  will  have  a  walk  after 
lunch  and  talk  a  bit  more  about  these  plans." 

The  lunch  —  a  hot  savoury  mutton-chop,  and  a  little 
of  the  cold  loin  sliced  and  fried  —  was  now  brought 
in.  Every  morsel  of  this  last  dish  was  finished,  to 
Martha's  great  gratification.  Then  my  father  bluntly 
told  Miss  Matty  he  wanted  to  talk  to  me  alone,  and 
that  he  would  stroll  out  and  see  some  of  the  old 
places,  and  then  I  could  tell  her  what  plan  we  thought 
desirable.  Just  before  we  went  out,  she  called  me 
back  and  said,  "  Remember,  dear,  I'm  the  only  one 
left  —  I  mean,  there's  no  one  to  be  hurt  by  what  I  do. 
I'm  willing  to  do  anything  that's  right  and  honest ; 
and  I  don't  think,  if  Deborah  knows  where  she  is, 
she'll  care  so  very  much  if  I'm  not  genteel ;  because, 
you  see,  she'll  know  all,  dear.  Only  let  me  see  what 
I  can  do,  and  pay  the  poor  people  as  far  as  I'm  able." 

I  gave  her  a  hearty  kiss,  and  ran  after  my  father. 
The  result  of  our  conversation  was  this.  If  all  parties 
were  agreeable,  Martha  and  Jem  were  to  be  married 


256 


CRANFORD 


"  Drumming  with  his  fingers  upon  it." 

with  as  little  delay  as  possible,  and  they  were  to  live 
on  in  Miss  Matty's  present  abode  ;  the  sum  which  the 
Cranford  ladies  had  agreed  to  contribute  annually 
being  sufficient  to  meet  the  greater  part  of  the  rent, 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  257 

and  leaving  Martha  free  to  appropriate  what  Miss 
Matty  should  pay  for  her  lodgings  to  any  little  extra 
comforts  required.  About  the  sale,  my  father  was 
dubious  at  first.  He  said  the  old  rectory  furniture, 
however  carefully  used  and  reverently  treated,  would 
fetch  very  little ;  and  that  little  would  be  but  as  a 
drop  in  the  sea  of  the  debts  of  the  Town  and  County 
Bank.  But  when  I  represented  how  Miss  Matty's 
tender  conscience  would  be  soothed  by  feeling  that 
she  had  done  what  she  could,  he  gave  way  ;  especially 
after  I  had  told  him  the  five-pound  note  adventure, 
and  he  had  scolded  me  well  for  allowing  it.  I  then 
alluded  to  my  idea  that  she  might  add  to  her  small 
income  by  selling  tea ;  and,  to  my  surprise  (for  I  had 
nearly  given  up  the  plan),  my  father  grasped  at  it  with 
all  the  energy  of  a  tradesman.  I  think  he  reckoned 
his  chickens  before  they  were  hatched,  for  he  imme- 
diately ran  up  the  profits  of  the  sales  that  she  could 
effect  in  Cranford  to  more  than  twenty  pounds  a  year. 
The  small  dining-parlour  was  to  be  converted  into  a 
shop,  without  any  of  its  degrading  characteristics ;  a 
table  was  to  be  the  counter ;  one  window  was  to  be 
retained  unaltered,  and  the  other  changed  into  a  glass 
door.  I  evidently  rose  in  his  estimation  for  having 
made  this  bright  suggestion.  I  only  hoped  we  should 
not  both  fall  in  Miss  Matty's. 

But  she  was  patient  and  content  with  all  our 
arrangements.  She  knew,  she  said,  that  we  should  do 
the  best  we  could  for  her ;  and  she  only  hoped,  only 
stipulated,  that  she  should  payevery  farthing  that  she 
could  be  said  to  owe,  for  her  father's  sake,  who  had 
been  so  respected  in  Cranford.     My  father  and  I  had 


258  CRANFORD 

agreed  to  say  as  little  as  possible  about  the  bank,  in- 
deed never  to  mention  it  again,  if  it  could  be  helped. 
Some  of  the  plans  were  evidently  a  little  perplexing 
to  her ;  but  she  had  seen  me  sufficiently  snubbed  in 
the  morning  for  want  of  comprehension  to  venture  on 
too  many  inquiries  now ;  and  all  passed  over  well, 
with  a  hope  on  her  part  that  no  one  would  be  hurried 
into  marriage  on  her  account.  When  we  came  to  the 
proposal  that  she  should  sell  tea,  I  could  see  it  was 
rather  a  shbck  to  her;  not  on  account  of  any  per- 
sonal loss  of  gentility  involved,  but  only  because  she 
distrusted  her  own  powers  of  action  in  a  new  line  of 
life,  and  would  timidly  have  preferred  a  little  more 
privation  to  any  exertion  for  which  she  feared  she  was 
unfitted.  However,  when  she  saw  my  father  was  bent 
upon  it,  she  sighed,  and  said  she  would  try ;  and  if 
she  did  not  do  well,  of  course  she  might  give  it  up. 
One  good  thing  about  it  was,  she  did  not  think  men 
ever  bought  tea ;  and  it  was  of  men  particularly  she 
was  afraid.  They  had  such  sharp  loud  ways  with 
them  ;  and  did  up  accounts,  and  counted  their  change 
so  quickly  !  Now,  if  she  might  only  sell  comfits  to 
children,  she  was  sure  she  could  please  them  ! 


y^  ^a.f>t}yf  fefurn.. 

Before  I  left  Miss  Matty  at  Cranford  everything 
had  been  comfortably  arranged  for  her.  Even  Mrs. 
Jamieson's  approval  of  her  selling  tea  had  been  gained. 
That  oracle  had  taken  a  few  days  to  consider  whether 
by  so  doing  Miss  Matty  would  forfeit  her  right  to  the 
privileges  of  society  in  Cranford.  I  think  she  had 
some  little  idea  of  mortifying  Lady  Glenmire  by  the 
decision  she  gave  at  last ;  which  was  to  this  effect : 
that  whereas  a  married  woman  takes  her  husband's 
rank  by  the  strict  laws  of  precedence,  an  unmarried 
woman  retains  the  station  her  father  occupied.  So 
Cranford  was  allowed  to  visit  Miss  Matty;  and, 
whether  allowed  or  not,  it  intended  to  visit  Lady 
Glenmire. 

But  what  was  our  surprise  —  our  dismay  —  when 
we  learnt  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hoggins  were  returning 
on  the  following  Tuesday.  Mrs.  Hoggins  !  Had  she 
absolutely  dropped  her  title,  and  so,  in  a  spirit  of  bra- 
vado, cut  the  aristocracy  to  become  a  Hoggins!  She, 
who  might  have  been  called  Lady  Glenmire  to  her  dying 

259 


260 


CRANFORD 


day  !  Mrs.  Jamieson  was  pleased.  She  said  it  only 
convinced  her  of  what  she  had  known  from  the  first, 
that  the  creature  had  a  low  taste.     But  '•  the  creature  " 


"All  the  smiling  glory  of  his  facer 

looked  very  happy  on  Sunday  at  church  5  nor  did 
we  see  it  necessary  to  keep  our  veils  down  on  that 
side  of  our  bonnets  on  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hoggins 
sat,  as  Mrs.  Jamieson  did ;  thereby  missing  all  the 
smiling  glory  of  his  face,  and  all  the  becoming  bluslies 


A  HAPPY  RETURN  261 

of  hers.  I  am  not  sure  if  Martha  and  Jem  looked 
more  radiant  in  the  afternoon,  when  they,  too,  made 
their  first  appearance.  Mrs.  Jamieson  soothed  the 
turbulence  of  her  soul  by  having  the  blinds  of  her 
windows  drawn  down,  as  if  for  a  funeral,  on  the  day 
when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hoggins  received  callers ;  and  it 
was  with  some  difficulty  that  she  was  prevailed  upon 
to  continue  the  St.  yat/ies's  Chronicle,  so  indignant 
was  she  with  its  having  inserted  the  announcement 
of  the  marriage. 

Miss  Matty's  sale  went  off  famously.  She  retained 
the  furniture  of  her  sitting-room  and  be».lroom ;  the 
former  of  which  she  was  to  occupy  till  Martha  could 
meet  with  a  lodger  who  might  wish  to  take  it ;  and 
into  this  sitting-room  and  bedroom  she  had  to  cram 
all  sorts  of  things,  which  were  (the  auctioneer  assured 
her)  bought  in  for  her  at  the  sale  by  an  unknown 
friend.  I  always  suspected  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam  of  this ; 
but  she  must  have  had  an  accessory,  who  knew  what 
articles  were  particularly  regarded  by  Miss  Matty  on 
account  of  their  associations  with  her  early  days.  The 
rest  of  the  house  looked  rather  bare,  to  be  sure ;  all 
except  one  tiny  bedroom,  of  which  my  father  allowed 
me  to  purchase  the  furniture  for  my  occasional  use  in 
case  of  Miss  Matty's  illness. 

I  had  expended  my  own  small  store  in  buying  all 
manner  of  comfits  and  lozenges,  in  order  to  tempt  the 
little  people  whom  Miss  Matty  loved  so  much  to  come 
about  her.  Tea  in  bright  green  canisters,  and  comfits 
in  tumblers  —  Miss  Matty  and  I  felt  quite  proud  as 
we  looked  round  us  on  the  evening  before  the  shop 
was  to  be  opened.     Martha  had  scoured  the  boarded 


262  CRANFORD 

floor  to  a  white  cleanness,  and  it  was  adorned  with  a 
brilliant  piece  of  oil-cloth,  on  which  customers  were 
to  stand  before  the  table-counter.  The  wholesome 
smell  of  plaster  and  whitewash  pervaded  the  apart- 
ment. A  very  small  "Matilda  Jenkyns,  licensed  to 
sell  tea,"  was  hidden  under  the  lintel  of  the  new  door, 
and  two  boxes  of  tea,  with  cabalistic  inscriptions  all 
over  them,  stood  ready  to  disgorge  their  contents  into 
the  canisters. 

Miss  Matty,  as  I  ought  to  have  mentioned  before, 
had  had  some  scruples  of  conscience  at  selling  tea 
when  there  was  already  Mr.  Johnson  in  the  town,  who 
included  it  among  his  numerous  commodities ;  and, 
before  she  could  quite  reconcile  herself  to  the  adop- 
tion of  her  new  business,  she  had  trotted  down  to  his 
shop,  unknown  to  me,  to  tell  him  of  the  project  that 
was  entertained,  and  to  inquire  if  it  was  likely  to  injure 
his  business.  My  father  called  this  idea  of  hers  "great 
nonsense,"  and  "  wondered  how  tradespeople  were  to 
get  on  if  there  was  to  be  a  continual  consulting  of 
each  other's  interests,  which  would  put  a  stop  to  all 
competition  directly."  And,  perhaps,  it  would  not 
have  done  in  Drumble,  but  in  Cranford  it  answered 
very  well ;  for  not  only  did  Mr.  Johnson  kindly  put 
at  rest  all  Miss  Matty's  scruples  and  fear  of  injuring 
his  business,  but  I  have  reason  to  know  he  repeatedly 
sent  customers  to  her,  saying  that  the  teas  he  kept 
were  of  a  common  kind,  but  that  Miss  Jenkyns  had 
all  the  choice  sorts.  And  expensive  tea  is  a  very 
favourite  luxury  with  well-to-do  tradespeople  and  rich 
farmers'  wives,  who  turn  up  their  noses  at  the  Congou 
and  Souchong  prevalent  at  many  tables  of  gentility, 


A  HAPPY  RETURN  263 

and  will  have  nothing  else  than  Gunpowder  and 
Pekoe  for  themselves. 

But  to  return  to  Miss  Matty.  It  was  really  very 
pleasant  to  see  how  her  unselfishness  and  simple 
sense  of  justice  called  out  the  same  good  qualities  in 
others.  She  never  seemed  to  think  any  one  would 
impose  upon  her,  because  she  should  be  so  grieved 
to  do  it  to  them.  I  have  heard  her  put  a  stop  to  the 
asseverations  of  the  man  who  brought  her  coals  by 
quietly  saying,  "  I  am  sure  you  would  be  sorry  to 
bring  me  wrong  weight ;  "  and  if  the  coals  were  short 
measure  that  time,  I  don't  believe  they  ever  were 
again.  People  would  have  felt  as  much  ashamed  of 
presuming  on  her  good  faith  as  they  would  have  done 
on  that  of  a  child.  But  my  father  says  "such  sim- 
plicity might  be  very  well  in  Cranford,  but  would 
never  do  in  the  world."  And  I  fancy  the  world  must 
be  very  bad,  for  with  all  my  father's  suspicion  of  every 
one  with  whom  he  has  dealings,  and  in  spite  of  all 
his  many  precautions,  he  lost  upwards  of  a  thousand 
pounds  by  roguery  only  last  year. 

I  just  stayed  long  enough  to  establish  Miss  Matty 
in  her  new  mode  of  life,  and  to  pack  up  the  library, 
which  the  rector  had  purchased.  He  had  written  a 
very  kind  letter  to  Miss  Matty,  saying  "  how  glad 
he  should  be  to  take  a  library,  so  well  selected  as 
he  knew  that  the  late  Mr.  Jenkyns's  must  have  been, 
at  any  valuation  put  upon  them."  And  when  she 
agreed  to  this,  with  a  touch  of  sorrowful  gladness 
that  they  would  go  back  to  the  rectory  and  be 
arranged  on  the  accustomed  walls  once  more,  he 
sent  word  that  he  feared  that  he  had  not  room  for 


264  CRANFORD 

them  all,  and  perhaps  Miss  Matty  would  kindly 
allow  him  to  leave  some  volumes  on  her  shelves. 
But  Miss  Matty  said  that  she  had  her  Bible  and 
Johnson's  Dictionary,  and  should  not  have  much 
time  for  reading,  she  was  afraid ;  still,  I  retained  a 
few  books  out  of  consideration  for  the  rector's 
kindness. 

The  money  which  he  had  paid,  and  that  produced 
by  the  sale,  was  partly  expended  in  the  stock  of  tea, 
and  part  of  it  was  invested  against  a  rainy  day  —  i.e. 
old  age  or  illness.  It  was  but  a  small  sum,  it  is  true ; 
and  it  occasioned  a  few  evasions  of  truth  and  white 
lies  (all  of  which  I  think  very  wrong  indeed — in 
theory  —  and  would  rather  not  put  them  in  practice), 
for  we  knew  Miss  Matty  would  be  perplexed  as  to  her 
duty  if  she  were  aware  of  any  little  reserve-fund  being 
made  for  her  while  the  debts  of  the  bank  remained 
unpaid.  Moreover,  she  had  never  been  told  of  the  way 
in  which  her  friends  were  contributing  to  pay  the  rent. 
I  should  have  liked  to  tell  her  this,  but  the  mystery 
of  the  affair  gave  a  piquancy  to  their  deed  of  kind- 
ness which  the  ladies  were  unwilling  to  give  up ;  and 
at  first  Martha  had  to  shirk  many  a  perplexed  question 
as  to  her  ways  and  means  of  living  in  such  a  house, 
but  by  and  by  Miss  Matty's  prudent  uneasiness  sank 
down  into  acquiescence  with  the  existing  arrangement. 

I  left  Miss  Matty  with  a  good  heart.  Her  sales  of 
tea  during  the  first  two  days  had  surpassed  my  most 
sanguine  expectations.  The  whole  country  round 
seemed  to  be  all  out  of  tea  at  once.  The  only  altera- 
tion I  could  have  desired  in  Miss  Matty's  way  of  doing 
business  was,  that  she  should  not  have  so  plaintively 


A   HAPPY  RETURN  265 

eiT^reated  some  of  her  customers  not  to  buy  green  tea 
—  running  it  down  as  slow  poison,  sure  to  destroy  the 
nerves,  and  produce  all  manner  of  evil.  Their  perti- 
nacity in  taking  it,  in  spite  of  all  her  warnings,  distressed 
her  so  much  that  I  really  thought  she  would  relinquish 
the  sale  of  it,  and  so  lose  hah  her  custom ;  and  I  was 
driven  to  my  wits'  end  for  instances  of  longevity 
entirely  attributable  to  a  persevering  use  of  green  tea. 
But  the  final  argument,  which  settled  the  question, 
was  a  happy  reference  of  mine  to  the  train-oil  and 
tallow  candles  which  the  Esquimaux  not  only  enjoy 
but  digest.  After  that  she  acknowledged  that "  one 
man's  meat  might  be  another  man's  poison,"  and 
contented  herself  thenceforward  with  an  occasional 
•remonstrance  when  she  thought  the  purchaser  was 
too  young  and  innocent  to  be  acquainted  with  the 
evil  effects  green  tea  produced  on  some  constitutions, 
and  an  habitual  sigh  when  people  old  enough  to  choose 
more  wisely  would  prefer  it. 

I  went  over  from  Drumble  once  a  quarter  at  least  to 
settle  the  accounts,  and  see  after  the  necessary  busi- 
ness letters.  And  speaking  of  letters,  I  began  to  be 
very  much  ashamed  of  remembering  my  letter  to  the 
.A^ga  Jenkyns,  and  very  glad  I  had  never  named  my 
writing  to  any  one.  I  only  hoped  the  letter  was  lost. 
No  answer  came.     No  sign  was  made. 

About  a  year  afier  Miss  Matty  set  up  shop,  I 
received  one  of  Martha's  hieroglyphics,  begging  me 
to  come  to  Cranford  very  soon.  I  was  afraid  that 
Miss  Matty  was  ill,  and  went  off  that  very  afternoon, 
and  took  Martha  by  surprise  when  she  saw  me  on 
opening  the  door.      We  went  into  the  kitchen,  as 


266  CRANFORD 

usual,  to  have  our  confidential  conference,  and  then 
Martha  told  me  she  was  expecting  her  confinement 
very  soon  —  in  a  week  or  two ;  and  she  did  not  think 
Miss  Matty  was  aware  of  it,  and  she  wanted  me  to 
break  the  news  to  her,  "  for  indeed,  miss,"  continued 
Martha,  crying  hysterically,  "  Tm  afraid  she  won't 
approve  of  it,  and  Fm  sure  I  don't  know  who  is  to 
take  care  of  her  as  she  should  be  taken  care  of  when 
I  am  laid  up." 

I  comforted  Martha  by  telling  her  I  would  remain 
till  she  was  about  again,  and  only  wished  she  had  told 
me  her  reason  for  this  sudden  summons,  as  then  I 
would  have  brought  the  requisite  stock  of  clothes. 
But  Martha  was  so  tearful  and  tender-spirited,  and 
unlike  her  usual  self,  that  I  said  as  little  as  possible 
about  myself,  and  endeavoured  rather  to  comfort 
Martha  under  all  the  probable  and  possible  misfortunes 
which  came  crowding  upon  her  imagination. 

I  then  stole  out  of  the  house-door,  and  made  my 
appearance  as  if  I  were  a  customer  in  the  shop,  just 
to  take  Miss  Matty  by  surprise,  and  gain  an  idea  of 
how  she  looked  in  her  new  situation.  It  was  warm 
May  weather,  so  only  the  little  half-door  was  closed  ; 
and  Miss  Matty  sat  behind  her  counter,  knitting  an 
elaborate  pair  of  garters ;  elaborate  they  seemed  to 
me,  but  the  difficult  stitch  was  no  weight  upon  her 
mind,  for  she  was  singing  in  a  low  voice  to  herself  as 
her  needles  went  rapidly  in  and  out.  I  call  it  singing, 
but  I  daresay  a  musician  would  not  use  that  word  to 
the  tuneless  yet  sweet  humming  of  the  low,  worn 
voice.  I  found  out  from  the  words,  far  more  than 
from  the  attempt  at  the  tune,  that  it  was  the  Old 


A  HAPPY  RETURN  267 

Hundredth  she  was  crooning  to  herself;  but  the  quiet 
continuous  sound  told  of  content,  and  gave  me  a 
pleasant  feeling,  as  I  stood  in  the  street  just  outside 
the  door,  quite  in  harmony  with  that  soft  May  morn- 
ing. I  went  in.  At  first  she  did  not  catch  who  it  was, 
and  stood  up  as  if  to  serve  me  ;  but  in  another  minute 
watchful  pussy  had  clutched  her  knitting,  which  was 
dropped  in  eager  joy  at  seeing  me.  I  found,  after  we 
had  had  a  little  conversation,  that  it  was  as  Martha 
said,  and  that  Miss  Matty  had  no  idea  of  the  approach- 
ing household  event.  So  I  thought  I  would  let  things 
take  their  course,  secure  that  when  I  went  to  her  with 
the  baby  in  my  arms,  I  should  obtain  that  forgiveness 
for  Martha  which  she  was  needlessly  frightening  her- 
self into  believing  that  Miss  Matty  would  withhold, 
under  some  notion  that  the  new  claimant  would 
require  attentions  from  its  mother  that  it  would  be 
faithless  treason  to  Miss  Matty  to  render. 

But  I  was  right.  I  think  that  must  be  an  heredi- 
tary quality,  for  my  father  says  he  is  scarcely  ever 
wrong.  One  morning,  within  a  week  after  I  arrived, 
I  went  to  call  Miss  Matty,  with  a  little  bundle  of  flan- 
nel in  my  arms.  She  was  very  much  awestruck  when 
1  showed  her  what  it  was,  and  asked  for  her  spectacles 
off  the  dressing-table,  and  looked  at  it  curiously,  with 
a  sort  of  tender  wonder  at  its  small  perfection  of  parts. 
She  could  not  banish  the  thought  of  the  surprise  all 
day,  but  went  about  on  tiptoe,  and  was  very  silent - 
But  she  stole  up  to  see  Martha,  and  they  both  cried 
with  joy,  and  she  got  into  a  complimentary  speech  to 
Jem,  and  did  not  know  how  to  get  out  of  it  again,  and 
was  only  extricated  from  her  dilemma  by  the  sound 


268  CRANFORD 

of  the  shop-bell,  which  was  an  equal  relief  to  the  shy, 
proud,  honest  Jem,  who  shook  my  hand  so  vigorously 
when  I  congratulated  him,  that  I  think  I  feel  the  pain 
of  it  yet. 

I  had  a  busy  life  while  Martha  was  laid  up.  1 
attended  on  Miss  Matty,  and  prepared  her  meals ;  I 
cast  up  her  accounts,  and  examined  into  the  state  of 
her  canisters  and  tumblers.  I  helped  her,  too,  occa- 
sionally, in  the  shop  ;  and  it  gave  me  no  small  amuse- 
ment, and  sometimes  a  little  uneasiness,  to  watch  her 
ways  there.  If  a  little  child  came  in  to  ask  for  an 
ounce  of  almond-comfits  (and  four  of  the  large  kind 
which  Miss  Matty  sold  weighed  that  much),  she  always 
added  one  more  by  "  way  of  make-weight,"  as  she 
called  it,  although  the  scale  was  handsomely  turned 
before ;  and  when  I  remonstrated  against  this,  her 
reply  was,  "  The  little  things  like  it  so  much! "  There 
was  no  use  in  telling  her  that  the  fifth  comfit  weighed 
a  quarter  of  an  ounce,  and  made  every  sale  into  a  loss 
to  her  pocket.  So  I  remembered  the  green  tea,  and 
winged  my  shaft  with  a  feather  out  of  her  own  plu- 
mage. I  told  her  how  unwholesome  almond-comfits 
were,  and  how  ill  excess  in  them  might  make  the  little 
children.  This  argument  produced  some  effect ;  for, 
henceforward,  instead  of  the  fifth  comfit,  she  always 
told  them  to  hold  out  their  tiny  palms,  into  which  she 
shook  either  peppermint  or  ginger  lozenges,  as  a  pre- 
ventive to  the  dangers  that  might  arise  from  the  pre- 
vious sale.  Altogether  the  lozenge  trade,  conducted 
on  these  principles,  did  not  promise  to  be  remuner- 
ative ;  but  I  was  happy  to  find  she  had  made  more 
than  twenty  pounds  during  the  last  year  by  her  sales 


A   HAPPY  PET  URN  269 

of  tea ;  and,  moreover,  that  now  she  was  accustomed 
to  it,  she  did  not  disHke  the  employment,  which 
brought  her  into  kindly  intercourse  with  many  of  the 
people  round  about.  If  she  gave  them  good  weight, 
they,  in  their  turn,  brought  many  a  little  country 
present  to  the  "  old  rector's  daughter " ;  a  cream 
cheese,  a  few  new-laid  eggs,  a  little  fresh  ripe  fruit,  a 
bunch  of  flowers.  The  counter  was  quite  loaded  with 
these  oiferings  sometimes,  as  she  told  me. 

As  for  Cranford  in  general,  it  was  going  on  much 
as  usual.  The  Jamieson  and  Hoggins  feud  still 
raged,  if  a  feud  it  could  be  called,  when  only  one  side 
cared  much  about  it.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hoggins  were 
very  happy  together,  and,  like  most  very  happy  peo- 
ple, quite  ready  to  be  friendly ;  indeed,  Mrs.  Hoggins 
was  really  desirous  to  be  restored  to  Mrs.  Jamieson's 
good  graces,  because  of  the  former  intimacy.  But 
Mrs.  Jamieson  considered  their  very  happiness  an 
insult  to  the  Glenmire  family,  to  which  she  had  still 
the  honour  to  belong,  and  she  doggedly  refused  and 
rejected  every  advance.  Mr.  Mulliner,  like  a  faithful 
clansman,  espoused  his  mistress's  side  with  ardour.  If 
he  saw  either  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Hoggins,  he  would  cross  the 
street,  and  appear  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of 
life  in  general,  and  his  own  path  in  particular,  until 
he  had  passed  them  by.  Miss  Pole  used  to  amuse 
herself  with  wondering  what  in  the  world  Mrs.  Jamie- 
son would  do,  if  either  she,  or  Mr.  Mulliner,  or  any 
other  member  of  her  household,  was  taken  ill ;  she 
could  hardly  have  the  face  to  call  in  Mr.  Hoggins 
after  the  way  she  had  behaved  to  them.  Miss  Pole 
grew  quite  impatient  for  some  indisposition  or  acci- 


270 


CRANFORD 


dent  to  befall  Mrs.  Jamieson  or  her  dependants,  in 
order  that  Cranford  might  see  how  she  would  act 
under  the  perplexing  circumstances. 


"Absorbed  in  contemplation." 


Martha  was  beginning  to  gd  about  again,  and  I 
had  already  fixed  a  limit,  not  very  far  distant,  to  my 
visit,  when  one  afternoon,  as  I  was  sitting  in  the  shop- 
parlour  with  Miss  Matty  —  I  remember  the  weather 


A   HAPPY  RETURN  271 

was  colder  now  than  it  had  been  in  May,  three  weeks 
before,  and  we  had  a  fire  and  kept  the  door  fully 
closed  —  we  saw  a  gentleman  go  slowly  past  the  win- 
dow, and  then  stand  opposite  to  the  door,  as  if  look- 
ing out  for  the  name  which  we  had  so  carefully  hidden. 
He  took  out  a  double  eye-glass  and  peered  about  for 
some  time  before  he  could  discover  it.  Then  he 
came  in.  And,  all  on  a  sudden,  it  flashed  across  me 
that  it  was  the  Aga  himself !  For  his  clothes  had  an 
out-of-the-way  foreign  cut  about  them,  and  his  face 
was  deep  brown,  as  if  tanned  and  re-tanned  by  the 
sun.  His  complexion  contrasted  oddly  with  his 
plentiful  snow-white  hair,  his  eyes  were  dark  and 
piercing,  and  he  had  an  odd  way  of  contracting  them 
and  puckering  up  his  cheeks  into  innumerable  wrinkles 
when  he  looked  earnestly  at  objects.  He  did  so  to 
Miss  Matty  when  he  first  came  in.  His  glance  had 
first  caught  and  lingered  a  little  upon  me,  but  then 
turned,  with  the  peculiar  searching  look  I  have  de- 
scribed, to  Miss  Matty.  She  was  a  little  fluttered  and 
nervous,  but  no  more  so  than  she  always  was  when 
any  man  came  into  her  shop.  She  thought  that  he 
would  probably  have  a  note,  or  a  sovereign  at  least, 
for  which  she  would  have  to  give  change,  which  was 
an  operation  she  very  much  disliked  to  perform.  But 
the  present  customer  stood  opposite  to  her,  without 
asking  for  anything,  only  looking  fixedly  at  her  as  he 
drummed  upon  the  table  with  his  fingers,  just  for  all 
the  world  as  Miss  Jenkyns  used  to  do.  Miss  Matty 
was  on  the  point  of  asking  him  what  he  wanted  (as 
she  told  me  afterwards),  when  he  turned  sharp  to  me : 
"  Is  your  name  Mary  Smith  ? " 


272  CRANFORD 

"Yes  .'"said  I. 

All  my  doubts  as  to  his  identity  were  set  at  rest, 
and  I  only  wondered  what  he  would  say  or  do  next, 
and  how  Miss  Matty  would  stand  the  joyful  shock  of 
what  he  had  to  reveal.  Apparently  he  was  at  a  loss 
how  to  announce  himself,  for  he  looked  around  at 
last  in  search  of  something  to  buy,  so  as  to  gain  time, 
and,  as  it  happened,  his  eye  caught  on  the  almond- 
comfits,  and  he  boldly  asked  for  a  pound  of  **  those 
things."  I  doubt  if  Miss  Matty  had  a  whole  pound 
in  the  shop,  and,  besides  the  unusual  magnitude  of 
the  order,  she  was  distressed  with  the  idea  of  the  in- 
digestion they  would  produce,  taken  in  such  unlimited 
quantities.  She  looked  up  to  remonstrate.  Some- 
thing of  tender  relaxation  in  his  face  struck  home  to 
her  heart.  She  said,  "It  is  —  oh  sir!  can  you  be 
Peter?"  and  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  was  round  the  table  and  had  her  in  his  arms, 
sobbing  the  tearless  cries  of  old  age.  I  brought  her 
a  glass  of  wine,  for  indeed  her  colour  had  changed  so 
as  to  alarm  me  and  Mr.  Peter  too.  He  kept  saying, 
"  I  have  been  too  sudden  for  you,  Matty  —  I  have  my 
little  girl." 

I  proposed  that  she  should  go  at  once  up  into  the 
drawing-room  and  lie  down  on  the  sofa  there.  She 
looked  wistfully  at  her  brother,  whose  hand  she  had 
held  tight,  even  when  nearly  fainting ;  but  on  his  as- 
suring her  that  he  would  not  leave  her,  she  allowed 
him  to  carry  her  upstairs. 

I  thought  that  the  best  I  could  do  was  to  run  and 
put  the  kettle  on  the  fire  for  early  tea,  and  then  to 
attend  to  the  shop,  leaving  the  brother  and  sister  to 


A   HAPPY  RETURN  273 

exchange  some  of  the  many  thousand  things  they 
must  have  to  say.  I  had  also  to  break  the  news'  to 
Martha,  who  received  it  with  a  burst  of  tears  which 
nearly  infected  me.  She  kept  recovering  herself  to 
ask  if  I  was  sure  it  was  indeed  Miss  Matty's  brother, 
for  I  had  mentioned  that  he  had  gray  hair,  and  she 
had  always  heard  that  he  was  a  very  handsome  young 
man.  Something  of  the  same  kind  perplexed  Miss 
Matty  at  tea-time,  when  she  was  installed  in  the  great 
easy-chair  opposite  to  Mr.  Jenkyns's  in  order  to  gaze 
her  fill.  She  could  hardly  drink  for  looking  at  him, 
and  as  for  eating,  that  was  out  of  the  question. 

"  I  suppose  hot  climates  age  people  very  quickly," 
she  said,  almost  to  herself.  "  When  you  left  Cran- 
ford  you  had  not  a  gray  hair  in  your  head." 

"  But  how  many  years  ago  is  that  ?  "  said  Mr.  Peter, 
smiling. 

"Ah,  true  !  yes,  I  suppose  you  and  I  are  getting 
old.  But  still  I  did  not  think  we  were  so  very  old  ! 
But  white  hair  is  very  becoming  to  you,  Peter,"  she 
continued  —  a  little  afraid  lest  she  had  hurt  him  by 
revealing  how  his  appearance  had  impressed  her. 

"  I  suppose  I  forgot  dates  too,  Matty,  for  what  do 
you  think  I  have  brought  for  you  from  India?  I 
have  an  Indian  muslin  gown  and  a  pearl  necklace  for 
you  somewhere  in  my  chest  at  Portsmouth."  He 
smiled  as  if  amused  at  the  idea  of  the  incongruity  of 
his  presents  with  the  appearance  of  his  sister ;  but 
this  did  not  strike  her  all  at  once,  while  the  elegance 
of  the  articles  did.  I  could  see  that  for  a  moment 
her  imagination  dwelt  complacently  on  the  idea  of 
herself  thus  attired;    and  instinctively  she  put  her 


274  CRANFORD 

hand  up  to  her  throat — that  little  delicate  throat 
which  (as  Miss  Pole  had  told  me)  had  been  one 
of  her  youthful  charms ;  but  the  hand  met  the  touch 
of  folds  of  soft  muslin  in  which  she  was  always 
swathed  up  to  her  chin,  and  the  sensation  recalled  a 
sense  of  the  unsuitableness  of  a  pearl  necklace  to  her 
age.  She  said,  "  I'm  afraid  Vm.  too  old  ;  but  it  was 
very  kind  of  you  to  think  of  it.  They  are  just  what 
I  should  have  liked  years  ago  —  when  I  was  young." 

"  So  I  thought,  my  little  Matty.  I  remembered 
your  tastes  ;  they  were  so  like  my  dear  mother's."  At 
the  mention  of  that  name  the  brother  and  sister 
clasped  each  other's  hands  yet  more  fondly,  and, 
although  they  were  perfectly  silent,  I  fancied  they 
might  have  something  to  say  if  they  were  unchecked 
by  my  presence,  and  I  got  up  to  arrange  my  room 
for  Mr.  Peter's  occupation  that  night,  intending  my- 
self to  share  Miss  Matty's  bed.  But  at  my  movement 
he  started  up.  "  I  must  go  and  settle  about  a  room 
at  the  *  George.'     My  carpet-bag  is  there  too." 

"  No  ! "  said  Miss  Matty,  in  great  distress  —  "  you 
must  not  go;  please,  dear  Peter  —  pray,  Mary  —  oh  ! 
you  must  not  go  !  " 

She  was  so  much  agitated  that  we  both  promised 
everything  she  wished.  Peter  sat  down  again  and 
gave  her  his  hand,  which  for  better  security  she  held 
in  both  of  hers,  and  I  left  the  room  to  accomplish 
my  arrangements. 

Long,  long  into  the  night,  far,  far  into  the  morning, 
did  Miss  Matty  and  I  talk.  She  had  much  to  tell 
me  of  her  brother's  life  and  adventures,  which  he  had 
communicated  to  her  as  they  had  sat  alone.     She  said 


A  HAPPY  RETURN  275 

all  was  thoroughly  clear  to  her ;  but  I  never  quite  un- 
derstood the  whole  story ;  and  when  in  after  days  I  lost 
my  awe  of  Mr.  Peter  enough  to  question  him  myself, 
he  laughed  at  my  curiosity,  and  told  me  stories  that 
sounded  so  very  much  like  Baron  Munchausen's,  that 
I  was  sure  he  was  making  fun  of  me.  What  I  heard 
from  Miss  Matty  was  that  he  had  been  a  volunteer  at 
the  siege  of  Rangoon ;  had  been  taken  prisoner  by 
the  Burmese ;  had  somehow  obtained  favour  and 
eventual  freedom  from  knowing  how  to  bleed  the 
chief  of  the  small  tribe  in  some  case  of  dangerous 
illness ;  that  on  his  release  from  years  of  captivity  he 
had  had  his  letters  returned  from  England  with  the 
ominous  word  ••  Dead  "  marked  upon  them  ;  and,  be- 
lieving himself  to  be  the  last  of  his  race,  he  had  set- 
tled down  as  an  indigo  planter,  and  had  proposed  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  the  countrj'  to 
whose  inhabitants  and  modes  of  life  he  had  become 
haoituated,  when  my  letter  had  reached  him,  and 
with  the  odd  vehemence  which  characterised  him 
in  age  as  it  had  done  in  youth,  he  had  sold  his 
land  and  all  his  possessions  to  the  first  purchaser,  and 
come  home  to  the  poor  old  sister,  who  was  more  glad 
and  rich  than  any  princess  when  she  looked  at  him. 
She  talked  me  to  sleep  at  last,  and  then  I  was  awak- 
ened by  a  slight  sound  at  the  door,  for  which  she 
begged  my  pardon  as  she  crept  penitently  into  bed  ; 
but  it  seems  that  when  I  could  no  longer  confirm  her 
belief  that  the  long-lost  was  really  here  —  under  the 
same  roof —  she  had  begun  to  fear  lest  it  was  only  a 
waking  dream  of  hers ;  that  there  never  had  been  a 
Peter  sitting  by  her  all  that  blessed  evening  —  but 


276  CRANFORD 

that  the  real  Peter  lay  dead  far  away  beneath  some 
wild  sea-wave,  or  under  some  strange  eastern  tree. 
And  so  strong  had  this  nervous  feeling  of  hers  be- 
come, that  she  was  fain  to  get  up  and  go  and  con- 
vince herself  that  he  was  really  there  by  listening 
through  the  door  to  his  even,  regular  breathing  —  I 
don't  like  to  call  it  snoring,  but  I  heard  it  myself 
through  two  closed  doors  —  and  by  and  by  it  soothed 
Miss  Matty  to  sleep. 

I  don't  believe  Mr.  Peter  came  home  from  India 
as  rich  as  a  nabob  ;  he  even  considered  himself  poor, 
but  neither  he  nor  Miss  Matty  cared  much  about 
that.  At  any  rate,  he  had  enough  to  live  upon 
"  very  genteelly  "  at  Cranford  ;  he  and  Miss  Matty  to- 
gether. And  a  day  or  two  after  his  arrival  the  shop 
was  closed,  while  troops  of  little  urchins  gleefully 
awaited  the  shower  of  comfits  and  lozenges  that 
came  from  time  to  time  down  upon  their  faces  as 
they  stood  up-gazing  at  Miss  Matty's  drawing-room 
windows.  Occasionally  Miss  Matty  would  say  to 
them  (half-hidden  behind  the  curtains),  "My  dear 
children,  don't  make  yourselves  ill ; "  but  a  strong 
arm  pulled  her  back,  and  a  rnore  rattling  shower 
than  ever  succeeded.  A  part  of  the  tea  was  sent  in 
presents  to  the  Cranford  ladies  ;  and  some  of  it  was 
distributed  among  the  old  people  who  remembered 
Mr.  Peter  in  the  days  of  his  frolicsome  youth.  The 
India  muslin  gown  was  reserved  for  darling  Flora 
Gordon  (Miss  Jessie  Brown's  daughter).  The  Gor- 
dons had  been  on  the  Continent  for  the  last  few  years, 
but  were  now  expected  to  return  very  soon ;  and  Miss 
Matty,  in  her  sisterly  pride,  anticipated  great  delight 


A  HAPPY  RETURN  277 

in  the  joy  of  showing  them  Mr.  Peter.  The  pearl 
necklace  disappeared;  and  about  that  time  many 
handsome  and  useful  presents  made  their  appearance 
in  the  households  of  Miss  Pole  and  Mrs.  Forrester ; 
and  some  rare  and  delicate  Indian  ornaments  graced 
the  drawing-rooms  of  Mrs.  Jamieson  and  Mrs.  Fitz- 
Adam.  I  myself  was  not  forgotten.  Among  other 
things,  I  had  the  handsomest  bound  and  best  edition 
of  Dr.  Johnson's  works  that  could  be  procured  ;  and 
dear  Miss  Matty,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  begged  me 
to  consider  it  as  a  present  from  her  sister  as  well  as 
herself.  In  short,  no  one  was  forgotten ;  and,  what 
was  more,  every  one,  however  insignificant,  who  had 
shown  kindness  to  Miss  Matty  at  any  time,  was 
sure  of  Mr.  Peter's  cordial  regard. 


Qfiafifer  XVT. 
%3ice  fo  Qanjord. 

It  was  not  surprising  that  Mr.  Peter  became  such 
a  favourite  at  Cranford.  The  ladies  vied  with  each 
other  who  should  admire  him  most ;  and  no  wonder, 
for  their  quiet  lives  were  astonishingly  stirred  up  by 
the  arrival  from  India  —  especially  as  the  person 
arrived  told  more  wonderful  stories  than  Sindbad  the 
Sailor ;  and,  as  Miss  Pole  said,  was  quite  as  good  as 
an  Arabian  Night  any  evening.  For  my  own  part, 
I  had  vibrated  all  my  life  between  Drumble  and  Cran- 
ford, and  I  thought  it  was  quite  possible  that  all  Mr. 
Peter's  stories  might  be  true,  although  wonderful ; 
but  when  I  found  that,  if  we  swallowed  an  anecdote 
of  tolerable  magnitude  one  week,  we  had  the  dose 
considerably  increased  the  next,  I  began  to  have  my 
doubts ;  especially  as  I  noticed  that  when  his  sister 
was  present  the  accounts  of  Indian  life  were  compar- 
atively tame ;  not  that  she  knew  more  than  we  did, 
perhaps  less.  I  noticed  also  that  when  the  rector 
came  to  call,  Mr.  Peter  talked  in  a  different  way 
about  the  countries  he  had  been  in.  But  I  don't 
think  the  ladies  in  Cranford  would  have  considered 
him  such  a  wonderful  traveller  if  they  had  only  heard 
278 


PEACE    TO   CRANFORD 


279 


him  talk  in  the  quiet  way  he  did  to  him.  They  liked 
him  the  better,  indeed,  for  being  what  they  called  "so 
very  Oriental." 

One  day,  at  a  select  party  in  his  honour,  which 
Miss  Pole  gave,  and  from  which,  as  Mrs.  Jamieson 
honoured  it  with  her  presence,  and  had  even  offered 
to  send  Mr.  Mulliner  to  wait,  Mr    and  Mrs.  Hoggins 


"  TTu  Father  of  the  Faithful:' 

and  Mrs.  Fitz-Adam  were  necessarily  excluded  — 
one  day  at  Miss  Pole's,  Mr.  Peter  said  he  was  tired 
of  sitting  upright  against  the  hard-backed  uneasy 
chairs,  and  asked  if  he  might  not  indulge  himself  in 
sitting  cross-legged.  Miss  Pole's  consent  was  eagerly 
given,  and  down  he  went  with  the  utmost  gravity. 
But  when  Miss  Pole  asked  me,  in  an  audible  whisper, 
"  if  he  did  not  remind  me  of  the  Father  of  the  Faith- 
ful ?  "  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  poor  Simon  Jones, 


280  CRANFORD 

the  lame  tailor;  and  while  Mrs.  Jamieson  slowly 
commented  on  the  elegance  and  convenience  of  the 
attitude,  I  remembered  how  we  had  all  followed  that 
lady's  lead  in  condemning  Mr.  Hoggins  for  vulgarity 
because  he  simply  crossed  his  legs  as  he  sat  still  on 
his  chair.  Many  of  Mr.  Peter's  ways  of  eating  were 
a  little  strange  amongst  such  ladies  as  Miss  Pole, 
and  Miss  Matty,  and  Mrs.  Jamieson,  especially  when 
I  recollected  the  untasted  green  peas  and  two-pronged 
forks  at  poor  Mr.  Holbrook's  dinner. 

The  mention  of  that  gentleman's  name  recalls  to 
my  mind  a  conversation  between  Mr.  Peter  and  Miss 
Matty  one  evening  in  the  summer  after  he  re- 
turned to  Cranford.  The  day  had  been  very  hot, 
and  Miss  Matty  had  been  much  oppressed  by  the 
weather,  in  the  heat  of  which  her  brother  revelled. 
I  remember  that  she  had  been  unable  to  nurse 
Martha's  baby,  which  had  become  her  favourite  em- 
ployment of  late,  and  which  was  as  much  at  home  in 
her  arms  as  in  its  mother's,  as  long  as  it  remained 
a  light-weight,  portable  by  one  so  fragile  as  Miss 
Matty.  This  day  to  which  I  refer,  Miss  Matty  had 
seemed  more  than  usually  feeble  and  languid,  and 
only  revived  when  the  sun  went  down,  and  her  sofa 
was  wheeled  to  the  open  window,  through  which, 
although  it  looked  into  the  principal  street  of  Cranford, 
the  fragrant  smell  of  the  neighbouring  hay-fields 
came  in  every  now  and  then,  borne  by  the  soft  breezes 
that  stirred  the  dull  air  of  the  summer  twilight,  and 
then  died  away.  The  silence  of  the  sultry  atmosphere 
was  lost  in  the  murmuring  noises  which  came  in  from 
many  an  open  window  and  door;  even  the  children 


PEACE    TO    CRANFORD  281 

were  abroad  in  the  street,  late  as  it  was  (between 
ten  and  eleven),  enjoying  the  game  of  play  for  which 
they  had  not  had  spirits  during  the  heat  of  the  day. 
It  was  a  source  of  satisfaction  to  Miss  Matty  to  see 
how  few  candles  were  lighted,  evtn  in  the  apartments 
of  those  houses  from  which  issued  the  greatest  signs 
of  life.  Mr. ''Peter,  Miss  Matty,  and  I  had  all  been 
quiet,  each  with  a  separate  reverie,  for  some  little 
time,  when  Mr.  Peter  broke  in  — 

"  Do  you  know,  little  Matty,  I  could  have  sworn  you 
were  on  the  high  road  to  matrimony  when  I  left  Eng- 
land that  last  time  !  If  anybody  had  told  me  you 
would  have  lived  and  died  an  old  maid  then,  I  should 
have  laughed  in  their  faces." 

Miss  Matty  made  no  reply,  and  I  tried  in  vain  to 
think  of  some  subject  which  would  effectually  turn 
the  conversation ;  but  I  was  very  stupid ;  and  before 
I  spoke,  he  went  on  — 

"  It  was  Holbrook,  that  fine  manly  fellow  who  lived 
at  Woodley,  that  I  used  to  think  would  carry  off  my 
little  Matty.  You  would  not  think  it  now,  I  daresay, 
Mary ;  but  this  sister  of  mine  was  once  a  very  pretty 
girl  —  at  least,  I  thought  so,  and  so  IVe  a  notion  did 
poor  Holbrook.  What  business  had  he  to  die  before 
I  came  home  to  thank  him  for  all  his  kindness  to  a 
good-for-nothing  cub  as  I  was  ?  It  was  that  that  made 
me  first  think  he  cared  for  you ;  for  in  all  our  fishing 
expeditions  it  was  Matty,  Matty,  we  talked  about. 
Poor  Deborah !  What  a  lecture  she  read  me  on  hav- 
ing asked  him  home  to  lunch  one  day,  when  she  had 
seen  the  Arley  carriage  in  the  town,  and  thought  that 
my  lady  might  call.     Well,  that's   long  years  ago; 


282  CRANFCRD 

\ 

more  than  half  a  lifetime,  and  yet  it  seems  like  yester 
day  !  I  don't  know  a  fellow  1  should  have  liked  bettei 
as  a  brother-in-law.  You  must  have  played  your  cards 
badly,  my  little  Matty,  somehow  or  another  —  wanted 
your  brother  to  be  a' good  go-between,  eh,  little  one  ?  " 
said  he,  putting  out  his  hand  to  take  hold  of  hers  as 
she  lay  on  the  sofa.  "Why,  what's*  this?  youVe 
shivering  and  shaking,  Matty,  with  that  confounded 
open  window.     Shut  it,  Mary,  this  minute  ! " 

I  did  so,  and  then  stooped  down  to  kiss  Miss  Matty, 
and  see  if  she  really  were  chilled.  She  caught  at  my 
hand,  and  gave  it  a  hard  squeeze  —  but  unconsciously, 
I  think  —  for  in  a  minute  or  two  she  spoke  to  us  quite 
in  her  usual  voice,  and  smiled  our  uneasiness  away, 
although  she  patiently  submitted  to  the  prescriptions 
we  enforced  of  a  warm  bed  and  a  glass  of  weak  negus. 
I  was  to  leave  Cranford  the  next  day,  and  before  1 
went  I  saw  that  all  the  effects  of  the  open  window  had 
quite  vanished.  I  had  superintended  most  of  the  al- 
terations necessary  in  the  house  and  household  during 
the  latter  weeks  of  my  stay.  The  shop  was  once  more 
a  parlour;  the  empty  resounding  rooms  again  fur- 
nished up  to  the  very  garrets. 

There  has  been  some  talk  of  establishing  Martha 
and  Jem  in  another  house,  but  Miss  Matty  would  not 
hear  of  this.  Indeed,  1  never  saw  her  so  much  roused 
as  when  Miss  Pole  had  assumed  it  to  be  the  most 
desirable  arrangement.  As  long  as  Martha  would 
remain  with  Miss  Matty,  Miss  Matty  was  only  too 
thankful  to  have  her  about  her;  yes,  and  Jem  too, 
who  was  a  very  pleasant  man  to  have  in  the  house, 
for  she  never  saw  him  from  week's  end  to  week's  end. 


PEACE    TO    CRANFORD  283 

And  as  for  the  probable  children,  if  they  would  all 
turn  out  such  little  darlings  as  her  god-daughter,  Ma- 
tilda, she  should  not  mind  the  number,  if  Martha 
didn't.  Besides,  the  next  was  to  be  called  Deborah 
—  a  point  which  Miss  Matty  had  reluctantly  yielded 
to  Martha's  stubborn  determination  that  her  first-bom 
was  to  be  Matilda.  So  Miss  Pole  had  to  lower  her 
colours,  and  even  her  voice,  as  she  said  to  me  that, 
as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hearn  were  still  to  go  on  living  in 
the  same  house  with  Miss  Matty,  we  had  certainly 
done  a  wise  thing  in  hiring  Martha's  niece  as  an  aux- 
iliary. 

I  left  Miss  Matty  and  Mr.  Peter  most  comfortable 
and  contented ;  the  only  subject  for  regret  to  the  ten- 
der heart  of  the  one,  and  the  social  friendly  nature  of 
the  other,  being  the  unfortunate  quarrel  between  Mrs. 
Jamieson  and  the  plebeian  Hogginses  and  their  fol- 
lowing. In  joke,  I  prophesied  one  day  that  this 
would  only  last  until  Mrs.  Jamieson  or  Mr.  Mulliner 
were  ill,  in  which  case  they  would  only  be  too  glad 
to  be  friends  with  Mr.  Hoggins ;  but  Miss  Matty  did 
not  like  my  looking  forward  to  anything  like  illness 
in  so  light  a  manner,  and  before  the  year  was  out  all 
had  come  round  in  a  far  more  satisfactory  way. 

I  received  two  Cranford  letters  on  one  auspicious 
October  morning.  Both  Miss  Pole  and  Miss  Matty 
wrote  to  ask  me  to  come  over  and  meet  the  Gordons, 
who  had  returned  to  England  alive  and  well  with  their 
two  children,  now  almost  grown  up.  Dear  Jessie 
Brown  had  kept  her  old  kind  nature,  although  she 
had  changed  her  name  and  station ;  and  she  wrote  to 
say  that  she  and  Major  Gordon  expected  to  be  in 


284  CRANFORD 

Cranford  on  the  fourteenth,  and  she  hoped  and 
begged  to  be  remembered  to  Mrs.  Jamieson  (named 
first,  as  became  her  honourable  station),  Miss  Pole 
and  Miss  Matty — could  she  ever  forget  their  kind- 
ness to  her  poor  father  and  sister?  —  Mrs.  Forrester, 
Mr.  Hoggins  (and  here  again  came  in  an  allusion  to 
kindness  shown  to  the  dead  long  ago),  his  new  wife, 
who  as  such  must  allow  Mrs.  Gordon  to  desire  to 
make  her  acquaintance,  and  who  was,  moreover,  an  old 
Scotch  friend  of  her  husband's.  In  short,  every  one 
was  named,  from  the  rector  —  who  had  been  appointed 
to  Cranford  in  the  interim  betwjeen  Captain  Brown's 
death  and  Miss  Jessie's  marriage,  and  was  now  asso- 
ciated with  the  latter  event  —  down  to  Miss  Betsy 
Barker.  All  were  asked  to  the  luncheon  ;  all  except 
Mrs.  Fitz-Adam,  who  had  come  to  live  in  Cranford 
since  Miss  Jessie  Brown's  days,  and  whom  I  found 
rather  moping  on  account  of  the  omission.  People 
wondered  at  Miss  Betty  Barker's  being  included  in 
the  honourable  list ;  but,  then,  as  Miss  Pole  said,  we 
must  remember  the  disregard  of  the  genteel  proprie- 
ties of  life  in  which  the  poor  captain  had  educated  his 
girls,  and  for  his  sake  we  swallowed  our  pride.  In- 
deed, Mrs.  Jamieson  rather  took  it  as  a  compliment, 
as  putting  Miss  Betty  (formerly  her  maid)  on  a  level 
with  "those  Hogginses." 

But  when  I  arrived  in  Cranford,  nothing  was  as  yet 
ascertained  of  Mrs.  Jamieson's  own  intentions  ;  would 
the  honourable  lady  go,  or  would  she  not?  Mr.  Peter 
declared  that  she  should  and  she  would ;  Miss  Pole 
shook  her  head  and  desponded.  But  Mr.  Peter  was 
a  man  of  resources.     In  the  first  place,  he  persuaded 


PEACE    TO    CRANFORD  285 

Miss  Matty  to  write  to  Mrs.  Gordon,  and  to  tell  her 
of  Mrs.  Fitz- Adam's  existence,  and  to  beg  that  one  so 
kind,  and  cordial,  and  generous,  might  be  included  in 
the  pleasant  invitation.  An  answer  came  back  by 
return  of  post,  with  a  pretty  little  note  for  Mrs.  Fitz- 
Adam,  and  a  request  that  Miss  Matty  would  deliver 
it  herself  and  explain  the  previous  omission.  Mrs. 
Fitz-Adam  was  as  pleased  as  could  be,  and  thanked 
Miss  Matty  over  and  over  again.  Mr.  Peter  had  said, 
"  Leave  Mrs.  Jamieson  to  me  ;  "  so  we  did  ;  especially 
as  we  knew  nothing  that  we  could  do  to  alter  her 
determination  if  once  formed. 

I  did  not  know,  nor  did  Miss  Matty,  how  things 
were  going  on,  until  Miss  Pole  asked  me,  just  the  day 
before  Mrs.  Gordon  came,  if  I  thought  there  was  any- 
thing between  Mr.  Peter  and  Mrs.  Jamieson  in  the 
matrimonial  line,  for  that  Mrs.  Jamieson  was  really 
going  to  the  lunch  at  the  "  George."  She  had  sent 
Mr.  Mulliner  down  to  desire  that  there  might  be  a 
footstool  put  to  the  warmest  seat  in  the  room,  as  she 
meant  to  come,  and  knew  that  their  chairs  were  very 
high.  Miss  Pole  had  picked  this  piece  of  news  up, 
and  from  it  she  conjectured  all  sorts  of  things,  and 
bemoaned  yet  more.  "  If  Peter  should  marry,  what 
would  become  of  poor  dear  Miss  Matty?  And  Mrs. 
Jamieson,  of  all  people ! "  Miss  Pole  seemed  to  think 
there  were  other  ladies  in  Cranford  who  would  have 
done  more  credit  to  his  choice,  and  I  think  she  must 
have  had  some  one  who  was  unmarried  in  her  head, 
for  she  kept  saying,  "It  was  so  wanting  in  delicacy  in 
a  widow  to  think  of  such  a  thing." 

When  I  got  back  to  Miss  Matty's  I  really  did  be- 


286  CRANFORD 

gin  to  think  that  Mr.  Peter  might  be  thinking  of  Mrs. 
Jamieson  for  a  wife,  and  I  was  as  unhappy  as  Miss 
Pole  about  it.  He  had  the  proof  sheet  of  a  great 
placard  in  his  hand.  "  Signor  Brunoni,  Magician  to 
the  King  of  Delhi,  the  Rajah  of  Oude,  and  the  great 
Lama  of  Thibet,"  etc.  etc.  was  going  to  "perform  in 
Cranford  for  one  night  only,"  the  very  next  night ; 
and  Miss  Matty,  exultant,  showed  me  a  letter  from 
the  Gordons,  promising  to  remain  over  this  gaiety, 
which  Miss  Matty  said  was  entirely  Peter's  doing. 
He  had  written  to  ask  the  signor  to  come,  and  was  to 
be  at  all  the  expenses  of  the  affair.  Tickets  were  to 
be  sent  gratis  to  as  many  as  the  room  would  hold. 
In  short.  Miss  Matty -was  charmed  with  the  plan,  and 
said  that  to-morrow  Cranford  would  remind  her  of 
the  Preston  Guild,  to  which  she  had  been  in  her 
youth  —  a  luncheon  at  the  "  George,"  with  the  dear 
Gordons,  and  the  signor  in  the  Assembly  Room  in 
the  evening.  But  I  —  I  looked  only  at  the  fatal 
words  — 

"  Under  the  patrottage  of  the  Honourable  Mrs. 
Jamieson." 

She,  then,  was  chosen  to  preside  over  this  enter- 
tainment of  Mr.  Peter's ;  she  was  perhaps  going  to 
displace  my  dear  Miss  Matty  in  his  heart,  and  make 
her  life  lonely  once  more  !  I  could  not  look  forward 
to  the  morrow  with  any  pleasure  ;  and  every  innocent 
anticipation  of  Miss  Matty's  only  served  to  add  to 
my  annoyance. 

So,  angry  and  irritated,  and  exaggerating  every  little 
incident  which  could  add  to  mv  irritation,  I  went  on 


PEACE    TO    CRANFORD  287 

till  we  were  all  assembled  in  the  great  parlour  at 
the  "George."  Major  and  Mrs.  Gordon  and  pretty 
Flora  and  Mr.  Ludovic  were  all  as  bright  and  hand- 
some and  friendly  as  could  be ;  but  I  could  hardly 
attend  to  them  for  watching  Mr.  Peter,  and  I  saw  that 
Miss  Pole  was  equally  busy.  I  had  never  seen  Mrs. 
Jamieson  so  roused  and  animated  before ;  her  face 
looked  full  of  interest  in  what  Mr.  Peter  was  saying. 
I  drew  near  to  listen.  My  relief  was  great  when  I 
caught  that  his  words  were  not  words  of  love,  but 
that,  for  all  his  grave  face,  he  was  at  his  old  tricks. 
He  was  telling  her  of  his  travels  in  India,  and  describ- 
ing the  wonderful  height  of  the  Himalaya  mountains  : 
one  touch  after  another  added  to  their  size,  and  each 
exceeded  the  former  in  absurdity ;  but  Mrs.  Jamieson 
really  enjoyed  all  in  perfect  good  faith.  I  suppose 
she  required  strong  stimulants  to  excite  her  to  come 
out  of  her  apathy.  Mr.  Peter  wound  up  his  account 
by  saying  that,  of  course,  at  that  altitude  there  were 
none  of  the  animals  to  be  found  that  existed  in  the 
lower  regions  ;  the  game  —  everything  was  diflferent. 
Firing  one  day  at  some  flying  creature,  he  was  very 
much  dismayed  when  it  fell  to  find  that  he  had  shot 
a  cherubim !  Mr.  Peter  caught  my  eye  at  this  mo- 
ment, and  gave  me  such  a  funny  twinkle,  that  I  felt 
sure  he  had  no  thoughts  of  Mrs.  Jamieson  as  a  wife 
from  that  time.     She  looked  uncomfortably  amazed  — 

"But,  Mr.  Peter,  shooting  a  cherubim  —  don't  you 
think  —  I  am  afraid  that  was  sacrilege  ! " 

Mr.  Peter  composed  his  countenance  in  a  moment, 
and  appeared  shocked  at  the  idea,  which,  as  he  said 
truly  enough,  was  now  presented  to  him  for  the  first 


288 


CRANFORD 


time ;  but  then  Mrs.  Jamieson  must  remember  that 
he  had  been  living  for  a  long  time  among  savages  — 
all  of  whom  were  heathens  —  some  of  them,  he  was 
afraid,  were  downright  Dissenters.  Then,  seeing  Miss 
Matty  draw  near,  he  hastily  changed  the  conversation, 
and  after  a  little  while,  turning  to  me,  he  said,  "  Don't 


'  He  had  shot  a  cherubim  /  " 


be  shocked,  prim  little  Mary,  at  all  my  wonderful 
stories.  I  consider  Mrs.  Jamieson  fair  game,  and 
besides  I  am  bent  on  propitiating  her,  and  the  first 
step  towards  it  is  keeping  her  well  awake.  I  bribed 
her  here  by  asking  her  to  let  me  have  her  name  as 
patroness  for  my  poor  conjuror  this  evening ;  and  I 
don't  want  to  give  her  time  enough  to  get  up  her 
rancour  against  the  Hogginses,  who  are  just  coming 


PEACE    TO   CRANFORD  289 

fn.  I  want  everybody  to  be  friends,  for  it  harasses 
Matty  so  much  to  hear  of  these  quarrels.  I  shall  go 
at  it  again  by  and  by,  so  you  need  not  look  shocked. 
I  intend  to  enter  the  Assembly  Room  to-night  with 


■'?i>'^||\i|; 


"Mrs.  Jamieson  on  one  side,  and  my  lady,  Mrs.  Hoggins,  on 
the  other." 

Mrs.  Jamieson  on  one  side  and  my  lady,  Mrs.  Hog- 
gins, on  the  other.     You  see  if  I  don't." 

Somehow  or  another  he  did ;  and  fairly  got  them 
into  conversation  together.  Major  and  Mrs.  Gordon 
helped  at  the  good  work  with  their  perfect  ignorance 


290 


CRANFGRD 


of  any  existing  coolness  between  any  of  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Cranford. 

Ever  since  that  day  there  has  been  the  old  friendly 
sociability  in  Cranford  society ;  which  I  am  thankful 
for,  because  of  my  dear  Miss  Matty's  love  of  peace  and 
kindliness.  We  all  love  Miss  Matty,  and  I  somehow 
think  we  are  all  of  us  better  when  she  is  near  us. 


biography  out  of  material  culled  from 
her  creative  -wTitings."  Do^pite  Dr. 
Sandler's  disclaimer,  it  would  thus  appear 
from  his  own  statement  that  his  book  is 
nevertheless  a  combined  life  and  study. 

4f        «        »  *] 

It  is  unfortunate  that  Mrs.  Gaskell  14 
known  to  present  day  readers  only  as 
the  author  of  "Cranford."  Notable  a« 
is  that  story,  it  forms  only  a  small  por- 
tlon  of  her  work.  "When  she  wrote  the 
series  of  sketches  that  were  later  c(A- 
lected  to  make  the  book,  she  built  better 
than  she  knew.  She  began,  without 
any  idea  of  extending  the  work  beyond 
the  oroginal  article,  a  narrative  founded 
upon  recollections  of  her  life  at  Knuts- 
ford,  where  with  her  aunt.  Mrs.  Lamb, 
she  had  spent  her  girlhood.  That  article, 
which  became  Chapters  I  and  11  as  the 
book  is  now  arranged,  she  submitted  to 
Dickens  for  Household  Words,  and  he 
published  It  in  the  issue  of  December  13, 
1851.  In  It  she  gave  an  account  of 
Cranford  society,  explained  the  leader- 
ship of  Miss  .Tenkyns.  and  recorded  the 
arrival  of  Captain  Brown,  his  quarrel 
with  Miss  Jenkyns.  his  death,  and  finally 
the  death  of  Miss  Jenkyns  herself-  The 
narrative  is  thus  complete  in  Itself  and 
would  have  been  the  last  of  Cranford 
had  not  Dickens  written  to  praise  the 
article  and  to  reque.st  others  In  similar 
vein.  Mrs.  Gaskell  responded  by  writing 
not  one  but  seven  other  articles,  eacli 
complete  in  Itself,  yet,  though  Involving 
the  same  characters,  an  integral  part 
of  the  whole  work."  These  appeared  In 
Household  Worda  between  January  and 
May,  1853.  Wh«n  the  last  was  pub- 
lished Mrs.  Gaskell  collected  tliem,  re- 
wrote a  few  sentences  here  and  there, 
and  they  were  published  In  book  form  by 
Chapman  &  Hall  the  same  year. 

ff      <»     9 

An  extremely  comprehensive  survey  of 
Mrs.  Gaskell's  work  is  given  by  Dr. 
Sanders,  with  separate  chapters  on 
"Mary  Barton,"  "Cranford."  "Ruth." 
"Korth  and  South."  the  biography  of 
Charlotte  Bronte.  "Sylvia's  Lovers"  and 
"Wives  and  Daughters."  In  "Mary 
Barton"  she  wrote  a  novel  with  a  pur- 


1  pose,  to  picau  lot    tnc  ueiierment  of  the 
conditions    of    life    among    the    English 
mill-workers.      "She  spoke   primarily   for 
the  men;  yet  she  was  not  per  se  against 
the     masters,     for     amid     the     currents 
that  were   sweeping   over    England,     she 
saw  that  each   side 'must  concede  many 
things:  that  the  employer  must  treat  hisj 
employee  as  a  fellow  human   being,  giv- 
^  ing    him    for    his    work    enough    to    buy  [ 
(food  and  clothing,   shelter  and  fuel,   and 
I  on    the    other    hand    that    the    employee 
.should  not  expect  all  the  profits,  lest  \he\ 
masters  should  lose  all  incentive  to  op^r-f 
ate  the  mills.  Her  experiment  was  to  re- 
port as  truthfully  as  she  knew  how  tlie' 
•conditions  amid  which  the  workmen  had 
ne  has  translated  several   Spanish  book? 
into   Enghsh,    three   English   books   into 
Spanibh.    edited    Alhambra.    a    Spani' li- 
Amerlcan  magazine,  and  contributed   re- 
views and  articles  to  a  number  of  maga- 
zines. 


tf  f 


'^^k 


Eiiz»betb   G*«keil. 
Uravoing   by   Oeorge  Richmond  in    the  National  Portrait   Gallery. 


UNIV.  OF  CALIF.  UBRARY,  LOS  ANGEU* 


^^- 


